


those maddening circles, that we must fly and dance our way around (Maddening Circles)

by Interjection



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: (because that's what people have told me this fic is), Angst, Backstory, Chatting & Messaging, Communication, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Gen, Grian is confused, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Reveal, That's sort of relevant actually just not the main focus, They're all trying their best but no one's perfect, Vex Magic, Vex!Scar, Watcher!Grian, Xisuma is tearing his metaphorical voidly hair out, learning to face your problems, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 62,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23807371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interjection/pseuds/Interjection
Summary: It was a well known fact that vexes were the most dangerous mobs of all. Not the small, spectral creatures that evokers conjured up - true vexes, the masters of their mysterious woodland mansions.Unlike other mobs, they were capable of intelligent thought. They possessed strange, powerful magic that could permanently kill even the strongest of players. And most terrifying of all, they had an instinctual taste for destruction and misery - an unshakable, undeniable thirst that was encoded into their very being.They agreed to stop the vex magic this season. But one can not hide from their true nature so easily...
Relationships: Charles | Grian & GoodTimesWithScar, Cubfan135 & GoodTimesWithScar (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 368
Kudos: 485





	1. Encounter

They had agreed not to team up this season. 

New worlds always heralded significant change. To the Hermits, it meant new environments, new bases, and most importantly, new alliances. Who was whose ally and enemy got mixed up every season, as all the Hermits knew that it was ultimately in good fun. They were simply a dramatic bunch. 

Cub and Scar broke that trend last time in Season 6, the two worst Hermits who could have done so. They both knew they shouldn't have stayed a team, not after the trail of pranks and spells that was Season 5. Cub had suggested they simply lessen the pranks and focus on economic domination instead. Scar agreed with him.

A fragile compromise between his own burning desires and chilling fears. 

It was a mistake. 

There’s a thing to note about vexes. The more they use their magic, the more it brings their suppressed instincts to the surface, closer and closer to breaking free; that desire for chaos and carnage, without any regard for the consequences, present deep within the personality of any vex. 

And using it with another vex would only hasten the ascent to that state.

(There was the opposite problem too, however. Not using, or using too little magic could also have dire consequences… but no one quite knows the line for that either).

Nonetheless, they already had their fun in Season 5.

But they worked _so_ well together, and they'd already been best friends for two _entire_ seasons, and Cub was so _talented_ and _hardworking_ and _good at fixing Scar's messes_ \- he couldn’t bring himself to admit they needed to end it before something got out of control. 

And it very nearly did, with Cub's death in Demise triggering some cruel, hidden instinct within him, as though it had been a predator playing a very long waiting game, biding endlessly for just the right moment to pounce. 

Now, that predator was still nestled deep within the both of them, curled up at the faintest regions of conscious thought, ever present, ever looming...

So they had agreed, after Scar had nearly had to forcibly snap Cub out of it, drilling it into him that Demise was over. No more ConVex, no more ConCorp, nothing of the sort next season. They would keep the vex magic smoldering inside of them quiet and unused, before something far worse happened. 

(Something far worse could happen with this plan too, but the other option was decided to be riskier).

(Oh, who were they kidding. It was all risky. But neither was willing to explore the third option).

But ever since he'd jumped through the infinity portal and into the new world, Scar's fingers had been jittering. 

He'd named the ensemble of colored glass, called them magic crystals, as a distraction. Scar could pretend he really did unleash his magic into the artifacts, molding them into beacons of speed, health, luck, a placebo to trick his mind into thinking his magic had been used. He had hoped it would stop that incessant, nagging, _twitch_ of his fingers whenever he thought about vex magic. 

It didn't. 

So he built more structures with magic related backstories that actually contained no magic whatsoever. It was an odd form of distraction, but nothing Scar tried last season had worked, so he figured he might as well take a more unconventional approach. 

(He would ask Cub if he felt the same way, but Scar was too scared to do even that. As though even just bringing up the subject between the two could fuel the instincts they were struggling so hard to control). 

The other distraction came in the form of Grian. They'd always been on opposing sides last season, and so it was a welcome surprise when they ended up settling in their starter bases as neighbors so close they could share a beacon. 

Scar had to admit, they made a very nice (and annoying) duo. Perhaps their efficiency could leave something to be desired, but that was always a guarantee when Scar was part of the equation. The head hunting was fun, the amazing builds were fun, the shenanigans they got up to were always something to laugh about (even if Grian did throw his precious crystals into the void like a heartless monster). 

Scar supposed there wasn’t much else he could do. Just stay away from his vex magic, and keep pushing on. 

His fingers continued twitching. 

* * *

Grian was eyeing his magical neighbor deviously. 

More specifically, he was eyeing Scar's door. Ever since he had stolen one right under the “wizard’s” nose when he came to collect the Head Hunt winnings, Grian had made it a challenge to see how many he could steal while Scar was working within the vicinity.

But Scar wasn’t at his village of catburgers, or his fashionably dressed snail. Grian sighed, flying up to the door and breaking it down with his axe. It was another ScarDoor™, but he’d really hoped Scar would be around for it, just to make things that much funnier. 

He spotted Larry’s left eye pointing at his direction, but the wooden button was just that - a button, dull and lifeless. Larry was less alive than the jungle dirt beneath him, which Grian found rather intriguing. 

If it was anyone else’s build, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought. But this was _Scar’s_ house, and unless Grian had hit his head extremely hard on the infinity portal’s roof between seasons, Scar had _definitely_ breathed some sort of life into Scara during their build contest. On more than one occasion Grian had experienced the terrifying plant monster swinging herself around wildly, attempting to snap her leaf-jaws around him, not to mention all the roars she’d given off; especially when someone said anything that could be perceived as insulting to her.

In fact, plenty of Scar’s builds last season were alive and moving in some way. The armorstand people on his island walked and blinked, the various planes at Area77 did actually inch their way across the sky before landing on the airstrip to take off again, and the glass snowstorm above his landscaping shop swirled and spiraled their way in and around a very chilly section of air.

So why was nothing alive? Larry should be blinking, the mushrooms on his house should be swaying and glowing, the Jellie cat should be batting curiously at floating wool balls within the chest-monster - there should be _something_ odd and unexplainable happening with the creations Scar so lovingly designed and constructed.

Maybe Grian wasn’t in a position to be questioning this, given the past and powers he himself was locking away, but Scar had never had qualms with showing his before. Unlike with Grian’s abilities, the entire server knew Scar had some sort of strange, unique magic.

“This is a weird train of thought to be having about a snail,” Grian mumbled. It was probably nothing. Maybe Scar had something huge planned later. “I should just get the door and get out of here.” He sighed, and then allowed himself a snicker as he clutched the door in one hand and leapt into the sky with another rocket, the sensation reminding him of his past, even if it was just a pale imitation.

After storing away the door, Grian took a quick flight around the jungle. The Hermits’ bases this season were getting bigger and better every day, and he always liked taking a fly by to see what his neighbors were getting up to.

He grinned as Iskall’s giant tree of _fun and happiness_ came into view, branches still awkwardly jutting to one side like a tangled wire mesh. Looks like the robotic hitman had added more leaves to the existing branches, though, and doing a much nicer job now.

Mumbo’s octagon wrenches were visible as well, towering over everything except the Iskall’s tree, as though the two builds were battling over which was the most noticeable, dominating structure of the jungle.

Grian snickered at the mental image of Iskall and Mumbo bickering over the topic, something both would totally do if given the chance to bring it up.

Scar’s village, meanwhile, sat innocently a few ways away. A truly breathtaking sight to behold, laden with careful and exquisite detail. From his sky high position, Grian could also glimpse Stress’ glass rainbow and decorated skull flashing colorfully in the sunlight.

Smiling, he turned back around and decided to check out the shopping district next. And on the way, maybe see if the button was on orange or red this time. It would be hilarious if Grian managed to snipe it under Doc’s nose _again_.

But as he dove towards his nether portal atop a towering jungle tree, something caught the corner of Grian’s eye.

Something… blue. And glowing. Which he would normally brush off as sea lanterns or enchanted gear, but this was a glow unlike any material Grian knew.

(Though something did tug at the back of his mind…)

The glow was seeping through cracks from the jungle below, slits that shot through the thick green canopy like inverted rays of sunlight. 

Curious, Grian angled himself downwards and dove, rushing through an ocean of leaves. A few seconds later, he flared out his elyra and landed smoothly and softly on lush, vibrant grass, littered with newly-fallen leaves and glistening morning dew.

The almost mesmerizing blue light was much more noticeable under the dark embrace of the leafy jungle blanket. It emanated from… _something_ in front of Grian, twice as tall and radiating _eeriness_.

It looked like one of Scar’s giant magic crystals, scaled down. 

It _was_ one of Scar’s crystal structures, Grian realized as he slowly creeped forward, carefully avoiding the leaves and twigs underfoot. Only this one was clearly exuding a foggy, dizzying light that all of Grian’s instincts _screamed_ at him to _run away_ from. Glazed blue terracotta cracked out from the ground beneath, zigzagging through the grass.

It was one of Scar’s crystals, and it wasn’t. Because the crystals at the creeper farm and village clearly did _not_ do whatever _this_ one was doing.

“What are you doing here?” 

Grian jumped and fired a rocket, jetting onto a branch far above the jungle floor, where he could see Scar step into view. The landscaper took a quick, fleeting glance around the surrounding jungle before slowly lifting his eyes to meet Grian’s own.

The sight chilled Grian’s entire body. He gripped the rockets in his hand like a lifeline, and pressed himself tightly against rough jungle bark.

Scar’s eyes were flickering blue, the same azure shade that radiated from the crystal, and it felt just as _wrong_.

Grian remembered why now, trying to stamp down surfacing memories. Vexes were dangerous creatures to play around with, but he thought the naming was just a joke, he hadn’t imagined-

(His builds made so much sense now, and Grian felt like slapping himself with a door for not realizing sooner)

“Grian, you should leave,” Scar said slowly. A pained smile, as clearly forced as his words, was etched across his face.

“What is this, Scar?” Grian eyed the canopy. Xisuma’s base was an entire ocean away, but maybe once he was in the air, he’d have enough time to send a message through the communicators.

 _If a vex doesn’t want you to leave, then you never will-_ Grian clamped that thought down. He wasn’t a normal player. He had his own tricks. And Scar told him to leave - that had to count for something.

Besides, this was still _Scar_. Kind, bright, curious, Scar.

“I know what I’m doing,” Scar said, but there was a tremble in his voice. “I just need to be alone right now.”

“What are you doing?” Grian asked, heart racing. Scar didn’t seem to be aggressive, but experience warned him to stay cautious. _Very_ cautious.

Grian suddenly realized that white feathers were tickling his ear. Without noticing, he had accidentally summoned his wings.

He quickly forced them away, disappearing them into an invisible pocket and hastily readjusting his elytra.

Scar didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he wasn’t acknowledging any of it.

“I just - need a moment. To - to-” Scar stopped his sentence. He now looked _guilty_ , though Grian realized with dread that his eyes were fully blue and glowing, and the signature spectral wings of vexes was fanned out behind him.

“Scar. _What are you going to do?_ ” There were only so many reasons he could want to use vex magic like this. Grian remembered Iskall and Mumbo reccounting the string of pranks Cub and Scar got up to in Season 5 as the ConVex. The two hadn’t said anything about actual vex magic involved, however, though it was now abundantly clear that had definitely been the case.

(How much was Cub in on this?)

“I - _I know what I’m doing!”_ Scar suddenly snapped, tone desperately insistent. The tremble didn’t go away. 

And Grian didn’t believe it for a second. 

“Do I need to message Xisuma? Or Cub?” Grian asked, still eyeing the vex below him. Scar froze in place, as though the words had robbed his ability to act. Grian assessed his options, and felt torn between trying to talk Scar out of whatever he was going to do, and spamming _help me!_ at their admin as fast as he could.

“Scar?” he tried again hesitantly.

After a few moments of baited breath and silence, Scar hissed softly, like a creeper but not quite (it was piercing and otherworldly in a way a creeper's hiss could never be) - and suddenly a thin, inhuman screech seemed to _rip_ itself out from between Scar's teeth-

And then, in a flash, he was gone. 

The glow of the crystal faded, the only evidence of Scar’s former presence. 

“Oh, _no,_ ” Grian muttered.

The jungle around him remained silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also known as: Watcher!Grian but what if that wasn’t the main focus of the plot? Everyone has their own unique past here, some scarier and more dangerous than others. I always feel like Vex!Cub and Vex!Scar’s potential is never explored enough, so…


	2. Dialogue

Everyone knew a vex’s nature yearned for chaos and misery, and using their magic only sunk them further and further into the temptation to trick and taunt and destroy.

But lesser known was that _not_ using their magic would eventually drive them insane, and vexes like that were the most dangerous vexes of all.

Grian paced around the crystal nervously as he waited for Xisuma to arrive. Questions swirled maddeningly in his head - did anyone know Scar (and possibly Cub) was a vex? It made so much sense now - but it also _didn’t._ Vexes didn’t just _live among players_. They were technically mobs, for Notch’s sake! And speaking of which, how _did_ Scar join? It was something that had never come up around Grian, though most of the members probably knew.

Grian sighed. If anyone could answer his questions, it would be Xisuma, though he restrained himself from hoping too much. Instead, Grian read the chat again, making sure he hadn’t missed anything from the numerous lines of text.

_ <Grian> anyone see Scar right now? _

_ <Iskall85> nope _

_ <Docm77> nada _

_ <ImpulseSV> zip, zero _

_ <Falsesymmetry> that made no sense lol (also, no Scar in sight) _

_ <Renthedog> no scar i'm afraid _

_ <TinFoilChef> no _

_ <ImpulseSV> Grian gets the meaning, which means it makes perfect sense! _

_ <VintageBeef> no _

_ <Keralis1> no Scar _

_ <Falsesymmetry> sure sure, whatever cheers yourself up Impulse ;p _

_ <VintageBeef> no scar in sight, I meant _

_ <Etho> no wizards in sight around here either _

_ <ImpulseSV> it’s okay to be wrong, False _

_ <Falsesymmetry> oh you _

_ <BdoubleO100> I don’t see any Scars _

_ <Stressmonster101> no gorgeous wizards around im afraid _

_ <MumboJumbo> no scar _

_ <Falsesymmetry> wanna fight on it? _

_ <Hypnotized> I don’t see Scar. Also, you two, calm down _

_ <ImpulseSV> you’re on! Nether roof, no armor or food, stick battle to death _

_ <Tango> lmao you two. no Scar _

_ <ZombieCleo> I don’t see him _

_ <Falsesymmetry> deal. Winner is right _

_ <ImpulseSV> fine _

_ <Etho> I’m pretty sure that’s not how you decide whether something’s factually correct. _

_ <iJevin> hey guys I’ll bet 5 diamond blocks False wins (no Scar) _

_ <Zedaph> I’ll take because I NO (scar) Impulse will _

_ <ZombieCleo> oh Notch that was the most awful pun to ever be conceived and also No Scar _

_ <ImpulseSV> thanks so much Zed <3 _

_ <Zedaph> I tried Cleo. you’re welcome Impulse <3 _

_ <Joehillssays> What if Impulse and False so closely parallel each other in this conflict of ideologies, when they fight they match each other blow for blow, and when both are at half a heart Scar appears as the judge and equalizer by slaying them both with a single swipe? I cannot ascertain Scar’s location as of this present moment, but I feel as though this would be a very satisfying conclusion to the story and character arc. _

_ <xBCrafted> … ^ _

_ <Xisuma> False, Impulse, head games are over. Chill out. _

_ <ImpulseSV> WHO CALLED MOM _

_ <Falsesymmetry> pls X _

_ <Xisuma> I can’t stop you guys, but geez _

_ <Xisuma> that’s quite the thing to kill each other over _

_ <Xisuma> and no, I don’t see Scar either. Is something wrong, Grian? _

_ <Cubfan135> wait I just finished lighting up some caves. What happened to Scar? _

_ <Iskall85> how do u know something happened? _

_ <Grian> whispered to <Xisuma> Xisuma I need to talk to you. Its urgent _

_ <Grian> whispered to <Xisuma> it’s about Scar. I’m between mine and Iskall’s bases. On top of a tree _

_ <Xisuma> whispered to <Grian> on my way _

That was where it ended.

Grian closed his eyes, straining his ears in hopes of picking up the sound of firing rockets and whooshing elytra wings.

Instead, something else bleeped from his communicator. Grian blinked his eyes open again, watching new messages pop onto the screen.

_ImpulseSV was slain by Falsesymmetry_

_Falsesymmetry was fireballed by Ghast whilst trying to escape ImpulseSV_

_ <iJevin> YES _

_ <ImpulseSV> dang it _

_ <Zedaph> that doesn’t count, False died too. It said she was trying to escape Impulse _

_ <iJevin> False still killed him! _

_ <Tango> uh oh Zed. are you saying what I think you’re sayin _

_ <Zedaph> no. *shifty eyes* _

_ <iJevin> what is it _

_ <Tango> he’s broke _

_ <Zedaph> I thought Impulse would win : ( _

_ <Iskall85> why would you think that False has been the pvp master for forever _

_ <Docm77> real question, why is there a ghast on the nether roof. Nothing should be spawnable _

_ <Falsesymmetry> I think it came from this square of blue terracotta on the floor behind the button. _

_ <MumboJumbo> WASN’T ME I SWEAR _

_ <Iskall85> I mean normally I’d say bumbo’s in denial but BLUE TERRACOTTA!? Someone definitely put that there on purpose. And everyone knows about spawnable blocks, we had an entire meeting on it _

_ <ImpulseSV> I mean I know you guys have been going crazy over that thing but no one here is mean enough to do something like that _

_ <Falsesymmetry> well someone clearly did. And since ghasts aren’t supposed to be here, I win. Also I got rid of it _

_ <Docm77> there’s something really weird about this _

Grian drew in a shaky breath. Blue terracotta. On the nether roof, where it shouldn’t be without string or carpet atop it. Right behind The Button, that Mumbo had worked so carefully to construct. 

“Grian! What’s wrong?” Xisuma landed behind him with a soft crunch of leaves, a new green robe enveloping his body. “What happened to Scar?”

Grian gestured for the admin to follow, and jumped down. His feet landed with a muffled thud on the jungle floor. 

He pointed silently at the crystal.

Xisuma’s eyes widened when he saw it, lasering in on the bright glazed terracotta, blue and ominous.

“Did you know Scar is a vex? An _actual_ vex, not just someone who likes wearing a mask,” Grian said softly, as though he was afraid the jungle darkness would swallow his fears and amplify it to the world.

“Yes,” Xisuma sighed. “I had to look at his code before allowing him onto each HermitCraft world, after all.”

“Cub joined at the same time, didn’t he? And they knew each other?”

“Yes,” Xisuma knelt down and ran a gloved finger across the terracotta. “And yes, he’s a vex too.”

“Does anyone else know?” Grian stared at the back of Xisuma’s head as the latter began pacing around the crystal. The admin’s movements were measured and oddly rhythmic as he replied to Grian’s questions.

“I never told anyone, and I’ve never heard it brought up, except as a joke when they were doing their ConVex thing. I believe some Hermits suspect it, though. And I don’t know if Cub or Scar ever told anyone.”

There were so many things wrong with those answers.

Grian wanted to be mad, to curse and yell that all the Hermits deserved to know something so potentially _dangerous_ as this.

But then, he would be a hypocrite. Grian understood fully why the two would want to keep this a secret, and the fear that they harbored about being found out. For a fleeting second, his back itched uncomfortably.

“What happened?” Xisuma asked, abruptly stopping his footsteps and turning to face Grian. “I can tell there used to vex magic around here.”

Grian didn’t bother asking how he could detect something that no normal admin would be able to. Instead, he quickly recounted what happened - finding the crystal, seeing Scar in vex form, the vague answers he got, and the sudden disappearance.

“So you think the blue terracotta was him,” Xisuma said. Grian saw tiny lines of code suddenly flash on Xisuma’s black and yellow visor, the numbers and letters and symbols jumping and changing at a dizzying speed.

“It’s a hunch, but no Hermit would do something like that under normal circumstances. And blue terracotta… it’s not glazed, but it’s close,” Grian sighed. “So yes, I think his… vex nature caught up to him. We should send a warning.”

Xisuma nodded, and even more code appeared on the visor. A few moments later, their communicators simultaneously pinged.

_ <Xisuma> Everyone, be careful, try to stay with another Hermit, and find a place to hide. If any of you see Scar - get away, don’t let him see you, and message me ASAP. _

Grian looked away from the flurry of questions that followed. “I don’t want to make any assumptions here, but I noticed none of Scar’s builds were moving this season.”

“Really? I know he likes to add some sort of magical touch to them,” Xisuma frowned. “I wonder-”

“I can explain,” a familiar voice interrupted. 

Cub flew into view from above, landing quietly in front of Xisuma. He blinked at the crystal with an indiscernible expression. The pharaoh outfit had been swapped back into his old lab one, Grian noted.

“Eavesdropping, Cub?” Xisuma said lightly. Cub shifted, and Grian didn’t miss how his feet seemed to glide over the leaves like a floating apparition.

“I needed to know what happened. It’s _Scar_ ,” Cub said. “And about Scar. W-we - agreed to not use vex magic this season.”

Brief moment passed as Grian absorbed this information.

“But you - that’ll make things _worse_!” he bursted. “Vexes can’t just _not use_ their magic, especially not for a period of time as long as an _entire season_ , or is that knowledge so uncommon even among your own species-”

“We knew,” Cub quietly said, eyes downcast. “But what else could we do? Do you understand how close I came to blowing everything and everyone up last season in Demise?”

Xisuma gasped. “I thought - you’re always so competitive-”

“No,” Cub shook his head. “I didn’t mean to go so far. I would _never_ intentionally go so far, it’s not worth the risk. Scar and I shouldn’t have formed ConCorp, but we just liked working together too much. It exemplified the danger, as you both know. So we agreed to split up and not use magic this season. Keep the risk to a minimum.”

“Did you _seriously_ think you could go an _entire season_ without using your magic,” Grian said flatly. “I’ve known vexes who’ve gone completely insane in half the time.”

“We knew, but we didn’t know how long it would take for… something to happen,” Cub sighed. “There isn’t exactly a spreadsheet on the topic we could use to assess. We haven’t talked to other vexes in so long…” he grasped the edge of his lab coat. “But we both agreed it would be less risky than using it like we did last season, or season 5, if only for a while. We’d face that ‘while’ when we got there. What else could we do?”

Though he’d known about the tendencies of the vex for a long while, it was as Cub finished speaking that Grian realized how bad the options really were. No matter what they did, there was no clear way out of it for Cub and Scar. 

No wonder vexes had the reputation they did; Grian wasn’t sure if he himself could last as long as the two had in controlling their instincts.

“Well, we need to find Scar,” Xisuma said. “He _was_ in the Nether, but not anymore. I think these coordinates are at the ice spikes biome now.”

“Etho’s ice and tree farms are there,” Cub said. “We should hurry.”

“Are you sure you should come?” Xisuma asked. “I’m sorry, Cub, but you two being around each other while Scar is… like this might trigger something in you too.”

“I think I can handle it,” Cub said, still staring at the vibrant jungle grass. “I don’t feel the need to use it too much right now, and I’m probably the best shot we have at stopping Scar.”

“I don’t think we can risk it-”

“I think we should,” Grian interrupted. “I’ve heard of vexes calming each other down in situations like this before. It’s sort of weird in that it works both ways - exacerbates _and_ nullifies those instincts, I mean. And Scar trusts you the most out of everyone on the server - so yes, you're our best chance at calming him down.”

Both Xisuma and Cub stared at Grian like parrots were parading out of his mouth. He forced himself to retain a calm expression on his face and pretend nothing was out of the ordinary about what he’d just said.

“...I suppose we can trust you on this,” Xisuma said finally. 

“That’s a terrible idea to _trust_ ,” Grian replied. “This is only anecdotal evidence, and could just as easily go the other way. But I don’t like the odds of just us two trying to stop Scar even more.”

“I’ll try my best,” Cub said softly. “For Scar.”

“For Scar,” Grian nodded. 

“For all of us,” Xisuma determinedly said. “Come on, let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very dialogue heavy chapter, as you can imagine, and a bit shorter than the first one. Sometimes the characters do need to communicate with each other. But next chapter is where things get real... good... (at least, by my standards).
> 
> (You don't have to read the notes section starting here if you're just here to enjoy the story. But this is for people like me who gobble up every detail).
> 
> So, let me start of explaining that my habit of having long end notes is happening all over again (you'd think once I started writing for a fandom that didn't require copious amounts of historical research for accuracy and thus filled my notes section with historical notes, these boxes would be relatively short. But no.
> 
> There are probably multiple ice spikes biomes that the Hermits have used. Cub said he decimated an entire one to get enough ice for his blue ice road. Meanwhile, we have the one Etho, and possibly Iskall are building in, and I’m pretty sure that’s a different one. However, as much as I wanted to specify which one, like “west” or “east”, I couldn’t find a map of the world that showed the locations. So we’re just stuck with “the ice spikes biome” here, which refers to the more well known one Etho has his farms at (and maybe Iskall has part of his industrial district in, but my memory’s a little fuzzy on that). I don't know if anyone even noticed this, but it’s the kind of thing that would make me go “wait a minute” because I watch Hermitcraft way too obsessively.
> 
> Also, it’s official, the Hermitchat is now my new favorite style of writing. I crack myself up every time. That section was inspired by screenshots that have been taken of the actual chat, which, no joke, has produced _much_ weirder stuff than what I've written (and probably will every write). I recommend checking out r/hermitchat, becuase yes there is an entire subreddit dedicated to this, if you want to see more.


	3. Wayward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone made [fanart](https://www.instagram.com/p/CIXrhKijfhd/) of a scene in this chapter! Thank you, person, I'm super flattered! <3
> 
> (spoilers contained. duh.)

Somehow, the Nether hub seemed even _more_ desolate than before. Everywhere around him, eerie silence pressed inward, slowly seeping into his being and choking any semblance of ease that dared form.

“The portal to Etho’s farms is this way, Cub,” Xisuma said, tugging gently at his coat. Cub blinked, watching the last of the nether purple swirls fade from his vision.

“Right,” he said, taking out his rockets. Grian was yelling at them from the Nether horizon, clouded in blood red mist and voice faintly audible.

They were about to launch when something caught the corner of Cub’s eye. 

“The Button?” Xisuma voiced as Cub quickly sprinted over to it. The row of lamps was fully lit, but the bottom color section had been replaced entirely by green concrete. 

“I guess Green Team obsession trumps even vex blue obsession,” Xisuma said. “That Button really does take over minds, doesn’t it? First I was talking to Doc about his crazy threats for the thing, and now Scar does this...”

Cub didn’t respond to the comment, his mind prancing around cluelessly. What was Scar thinking? What intentions did he have behind… doing that?

“Let’s get going,” he said instead. “Grian looks impatient.”

Cub rocketed himself in the air. A following whistle signaled Xisuma’s own flight behind him. 

They quickly caught up to Grian, looping circles in the air.

“What was it?” he asked.

“The Button’s colors have all been replaced with green,” Cub said. 

“Like… the concrete belts?” 

“Huh. We never checked that,” Xisuma said. Their voices were all distorted, stretched out by the passing foggy air around them. But the thick Nether atmosphere eliminated most of the reverb, making his voice audible. Cub briefly wondered what the statistical differences between audio transmission in Nether and Overworld would be.

“The colors below the lamps,” Cub replied.

“Hmm,” Grian said. “What else do you think Scar has done?”

“Hopefully not too much,” Xisuma said. “Look - here’s Etho’s portal.”

As it drew into sight, Cub’s mind internally gasped. The portal was now beneath a titanic wave of dirt in the shape of a sitting cat. 

More specifically, it looked like dirt Jellie about to smash a paw down on the icy portal. 

“This is very detailed for a dirt sculpture,” Grian said, sounding mildly impressed. “Even now, Scar has to make me envy his ability to build organics.”

“Is it stringed or carpeted?” Cub whispered. 

“I don’t think so,” said Xisuma, landing next to him. Code flashed before his visor. “Nope.”

“But also no ghasts,” Grian said. “Damn, I still have that high score.”

“Let’s go before that high score gets broken,” Xisuma huffed. He dove into the portal. Cub and Grian landed and shoved themselves in after him. When they emerged into the Overworld a few seconds later-

they were falling.

“Why is there no ground!?” Grian yelped loudly, flaring his elytra wings.

Cub hastily fired a rocket, propelling himself upward.

“Take a wild guess!” Xisuma yelled in reply. Cub looked down.

The portal platform had been completely removed. A snowy square of ice was what remained below, its middle glowing of redstone machinery, a stark contrast from the glittering white scene around it.

Etho’s ice, snow, and tree farm - but the man himself was nowhere to be seen.

“Is Etho here?” Cub shouted at Xisuma, looping around.

“Yes, he’s underground!” Xisuma responded. “But - oh, creepers. Scar’s now six hundred blocks out this way!”

He pointed towards the sun, which Cub then realized was slowly inching its way downward in brilliant yellow streaks.

“Let’s go then!” Grian called, obviously realizing the same thing. Nighttime meant mobs, and mobs meant more distractions from Scar.

Cub shifted his position and fired a rocket. The ice spikes drew closer. 

With an internal jolt Cub remembered that Scar had never gone so far before - in the mental sense. He'd had calls, but never as bad as Cub's lapses seemed to be.

Scar.

What could _Cub_ do? _Scar_ was the one with all the answers. 

Cub was no good at talking to people. Cub didn’t have Scar’s kind, generous empathy. Cub’s emotional intelligence was as dull as a brick, unlike the shining beacon that was Scar. 

But-

he had to do _something._

It was his job. It was his duty. It was his _faul̵t̸-_

_..._

_I’m coming, Scar..._

* * *

Grian flew on silently. He wondered how far they could - would - have to go, to bring Scar back. 

It was not a pleasant question to dwell on. 

He pushed away memories and kept flying.

* * *

Xisuma ran over the list of commands in his head. He’d nearly forgotten some of them existed.

The Hermits had agreed, long, long ago, when he was first made leader and the scene was oh so different, that commands were to be used only in world maintenance - unless it was a state of emergency.

Was this a state of emergency? How dangerous did it have to be? How dangerous _was_ Scar right now?

He didn’t know. He didn’t want to figure it out. 

But Xisuma was the admin. He accepted that responsibility when he accepted the position. He couldn’t afford to not answer.

The weight of this world seemed to drape itself over him.

* * *

Cub stared down at the pale ice spikes jutting out above the vibrantly red horizon. Normally, he’d be in bed right now, ready to wake up absurdly early the next morning to continue work on his pyramid. Though Cub loathed to admit it, without vex magic, he actually had to maintain a consistent sleep schedule in order to keep maximum productivity.

“He’s now 100 blocks ahead,” Xisuma said, gliding beside him, code still running circles across his visor. Cub fired his rockets once again and took the lead.

Scar was sprawled atop an ice spike, its top flattened and smooth, head facing away from them. A TNT minecart could clearly be seen in his hand.

And so could the signature vex wings, bobbing idly back and forth in the cold tundra breeze. 

Cub suddenly felt sick.

“Scar,” Grian carefully called. Scar spun abruptly to face them, eyes light blue and shining. A grin plastered his face as redstone blocks appeared in his other hand.

The choice of blocks didn’t fit at all. What was Scar playing at?

“What’s up, Grian! Xisuma! This biome is a lovely sight, isn’t it? The different shades of blue are super pretty at sunset,” Scar called back. The worst part was that his voice sounded _almost_ normal _._ Like if Cub tried hard enough, he could pretend Scar really was just admiring the icy tundra view.

But Scar only had that light, jingling twist in his tone, like a pitched warning bell, when he was about to do something _truly vex_. That crossed the boundary into what he would normally never do, in his right mind.

_Or maybe, when he_ isn’t _in it_ , his mind whispered to him. _Denying your true nature is the opposite of being in your right mind-_

Cub forcefully shoved that train of thought away and slowly glided closer to Scar.

“Scar! I think you should put that away!” Xisuma yelled, voice cascading over Cub from behind. Scar tilted his head and gave a single flap of his wings, propelling him to the admin’s eye level.

“But it’ll be fun! And hilarious, and magical! A truly wondrous sight,” he chuckled. “I’m thinking a lot of _people_ would enjoy the attention… like our friend Etho over there.” Scar grinned in the direction of Etho’s farms, making everyone else stiffen.

Cub saw Scar’s wings raise up. A single flap of them would be enough to sharply propel him away - and he made a split second decision.

The moment he crashed into Scar, Cub desperately gripped a cold spectral wing and yanked. Scar yelped furiously and clawed at his coat, redstone and TNT now forgotten. Cub merely gripped harder, and reached out to grasp Scar’s wizard robe as well. 

The two struggled in the air, Scar attempting to break away and Cub holding tightly on, both scrabbling back and forth to get the upper hand.

“Stop it, Scar!” Cub yelled. Scar’s only reply was an outraged snarl. Dimly, above the erratic pounding of his heart, Cub realized the ground was rushing up to meet them.

As the two suddenly found themselves tumbling in the powdery snow, Cub quickly grabbed Scar’s shoulders and pinned him down against a section of frozen dirt. 

Scar struggled back and forth like a silverfish, but Cub held on tightly. 

“Don’t you want to see your traps?” Scar hissed at him. “ _They were_ _so much fun_ _last season_.”

_He’s taking inspiration from me_ , Cub realized, suddenly cold. _TNT minecarts._

_Yo̷u̸r̶ f̶a̴ũ̵l̴t̸-_

Then, a flashing glow began to envelop Scar. 

“He’s trying to teleport!” Cub yelled at Grian and Xisuma, both still circling uncertainly in the air above. Xisuma nodded, and quickly waved a hand. Scar’s body flashed blue and white like a creeper about to explode, but stayed solidly under Cub’s grasp.

Scar hissed. A diamond sword appeared in his hand, glowing waves of blue. It stood out starkly amidst the fading light, the sun just about to touch horizon level.

Cub leaped back just in time to avoid a clumsy jab. His fingers brushed over his own sword’s hilt, but Cub didn’t grasp anything.

“Scar,” he said, stumbling closer. “Why do you want to do this?”

_"Shut_ _up, Cub_ ,” Scar snarled, scrambling up. He swung his sword at Cub again, and this time the chiseled diamond nicked a searing notch onto his shoulder.

Cub tried to take out his sword. But his fingers failed him, trailing uselessly over the wooded hilt. 

He tried again, to the same result.

_I don’t want to fight Scar_ , he realized dully. _I can’t._

It was too much. Cub could never bring himself to hurt Scar, even in a situation like this.

“Scar,” he gasped again.

_"You_ _know why!”_ Scar snapped. But he didn’t attack again. “It’s what we’re _meant_ to do! I feel so much _freer_ not battling my own nature **_every single second of my life_ **-”

Grian suddenly slammed down and tore the diamond sword from Scar’s hand. With a quick twirl, it disappeared from view.

Scar narrowed his eyes and grasped his fingers tightly together.

_To summon it back_ , Cub realized. _Using vex magic._

Scar was willing to do that, now. How was Cub meant to stop him?

But nothing appeared in the Scar’s hand.

“What?!”

“It’s gone, Scar,” Grian said, expression unusually calm. “You’re not the only one with tricks around here.”

Grian had magic of some sort. Cub wasn’t exactly surprised, but if he was confident enough to take on Scar, then they might have a chance with Xisuma-

Where was Xisuma?

Scar grinned, as though he had read Cub’s mind. The grin pierced Cub’s heart, cold and sharp. A horrible, paralyzing feeling overtook him. 

Something was seriously wrong.

A pile of blue concrete powder suddenly encased Grian. The builder attempted to jump away, but the powder swallowed his body down like an ocean. 

Cub glimpsed another pile appearing above himself. He fired a rocket, just barely dodging sideways.

“I can’t break this!” Grian yelled at him. He was half submerged in the powder, but the shovel he wielded passed right through it. A pleased look crossed Scar’s expression, and another wave of powder drowned Grian, silencing his yells.

“This is _very_ fun,” Scar _purred_. “Cub.”

With a sinking feeling, Cub realized there was another pile just behind him, where Xisuma had presumably gone.

Indestructible concrete powder was not something a vex can just _will up_ , but-

The _process_ to do it. Something tugged at the back of Cub’s mind. Something Scar had also remembered.

Xisuma and Grian couldn’t help him now, Cub realized. He was well and truly alone.

Scar smiled, in front of him. Scar, with glowing blue eyes and shimmering spectral wings and all of a vex’s instincts dictating his actions-

Cub had never seen Scar like this before, so distant and apathetic, the very pinnacle of what a vex _should_ be. 

And showing no signs of stopping.

He’d never felt so lost in his life. 

_What am I supposed to do?_

Cub gasped as a bolt of lightning nearly seared his elytra, and quickly dove back onto the ground.

“Why is this fun to you, Scar?” he called. Cub didn’t know what he was doing. But he had to try, and his only option was to talk Scar down now.

“I know it is,” Scar snapped again. “You know it too, Cub. There’s _no use denying it_.” Something blue flashed around them, and suddenly Cub was slumped against an ice spike.

He couldn’t move. _He couldn’t move_.

But he could teleport-

He didn’t. What use would it be? With the amount he’d need to fight, Cub would likely just end up crazy again too, and this world would have two insane vexes instead of one.

And even if Cub was willing to use his magic, he would still _never_ try to harm Scar with it, let alone fight an entire battle against him. He’d learned that fact a long, long time ago.

Cub turned his eyes to the rising moon, a faint black circle behind waves of shadowy clouds. Darkness slowly dawned over the world, enveloping the scenery in a somber embrace. 

“Is that really what you think, Scar?” Cub whispered. “That this is _fun?_ ”

Scar’s grin faltered. He landed in front of Cub and leaned forward. 

“I keep answering the same questions, Cub,” he said. “You of all people should _understand_.”

“Are we your friends, Scar?” Cub queried softly instead. The collar of his white lab coat fluttered in front of his lowered vision. An icy chill was sweeping across the plains, and flakes of snow began battering Cub’s cheeks.

“What - what kind of question is that?” Scar asked. But he looked taken aback. 

“Are you a Hermit, Scar?”

Scar gripped his green robe, eyes shadowed. His wings slowly folded. He took a single step backwards, glancing around at the concrete powder piles that contained Xisuma and Grian, before turning back to stare at Cub. 

Cub, pinned uselessly against a wall of ice, who could barely make out anything between the night and the snow, now falling at an increasingly cold and rapid pace.

“I - I…”

Scar stared into Cub’s glazed eyes. His hair was tangled and frozen and laced with fine white snow. His fingers seemed to tremble as they were lowered to his side.

_**“I gue̵s̵s̶ ̵I̵̾’m̷̃ n̵o̸t ̶̇añ̵y̴m̶͒o̷̥͐r̷e̴̮̓."** _

Scar’s expression darkened, and the grin abruptly disappeared. His vex blue eyes seemed to steel and harden, as though bracing for something terrible.

He spun himself around and began stalking away. The quickening snowstorm and darkness of nightfall immediately started to obscure his form into a vague silhouette, as though finalizing Scar’s exit.

Cub closed his eyes. The blizzard winds howled mournfully around him. 

Despite his efforts, cold tears began to slide down his cheeks. They shattered onto snow in frozen droplets, the sound small and minute, yet ringing painfully in his mind.

Scar was gone. 

Scar was _gone_ , and it was all Cub’s fault.

All the times Scar had brought him back, reminded him of his Hermit status, preventing him from going too far…

And yet, when Scar needed him the most, Cub had failed him.

Cub couldn’t call himself a friend or Hermit anymore either.

The bitter coldness continued to encase itself around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> so...
> 
> that happened...
> 
> and-
> 
> HAHAHAHAHA I HAVE NO REGRETS
> 
> In all seriousness I don’t think I’ve ever written an angst scene before. Now I know why the rest of you authors love torturing these poor people so much. 
> 
> Did I cry while writing this? Well… no. My eyes did get wetter in some places though, if it’s any consolation.
> 
> ...maybe I’m enjoying this a bit too much. Cub was originally going to succeed here, but while editing I decided the fight needed more build up and one thing led to another and, well-
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> What will happen in chapter 4? Stay tuned to find out, because boy, do we have some more stuff to unpack…
> 
> Also, shoutout to the first person who can say where Scar (and by extension me) got that idea for the indestructible concrete than even Grian and Xisuma’s magic struggles to break. 
> 
> ...btw if you want updates on how the next chapter is going check out my profile. I will update that every day.


	4. Contemplate

It was rather amusing, how Etho could be summed up in these few sentences;

_“Etho, have you ever denied your insanity, then turned to do something you know for a fact no sane person would ever do?”_

_“No, of course not, you silly, imaginary phantasm. How dare you ever accuse me, the wonderful, rational, perfectly sane and completely normal Etho of a crime like that."_

_That_ being said, Etho was currently observing a vex playing with his creations whilst shifting in the middle of his ice farm perimeter. Encased in a downward spiral of ice and in the shadowy deadness of night, a howling, raging blizzard obscuring the night landscape. Faint curls of invisibility floated up around him as he peered through foggy, translucent ice and a sheet of battering snow.

What he was observing was one vexical Scar, making some rather… interesting modifications with his farms. Etho winced invisibly as Scar placed the sequence of repeaters in _entirely_ the wrong order. If he was going to make a TNT dropper, he might as well make it _right!_

Now, why exactly was Etho staring at a creature whose species has a reputation for causing unforgivable chaos and misery towards players? 

Some might call it a lack of self-preservation. Some might say he was, in fact, utterly insane.

Etho would offer that he was merely curious! After all, he was _old_ , by… any standard, really, though he may not seem it at times. But he’d wager he’d been around long before most of the Watchers even.

And in all those years he’d never witnessed a vex messing with _his_ stuff before. Other people? Sure. But the idea of a vex targeting _him_ specifically gave Etho a direct shot of elating giddiness.

It was actually fascinating, he’d argue. Farms could be rebuilt, but observing how a vex would deal with his builds was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Etho rubbed his hands excitedly, also appreciating the tiny bit of warmth it generated. Though his ninja outfit was also subject to the potion’s effects, a tundra was always cloaked in relentless cold; doubly so with tonight’s weather.

But unfortunately, the cold could not be said to bother Etho as much as the implications laid out before him.

Which began with the fact that Scar was a vex.

Was Etho surprised? Not really. There was obviously, of course, the nature of Scar’s builds. Etho hadn’t ever seen much of Scar’s “animation”, but of course his ears had been near talked off about it. Every Hermit, at some level, had a very well deserved obsession with Scar’s builds. 

Now, that was rather easily dismissed on its own, as a few rare players have been known to naturally spawn with random powers. This could have been just that - but unlike what most people would assume, animating builds _did_ fall under the category of vex abilities.

Lots of things did - vex powers were a very understudied field that even Etho couldn’t claim to know much of, but what he did know was that compared the voidkind or demons, vex powers were varied. It was a long running hypothesis of Etho’s that few vexes could claim the exact powerset, though of course certain magic was available to all of them. Ones that messed with players and other mobs.

But no, it wasn’t really Scar’s builds that had cast suspicion on him, or even the obvious parody on vexes he and Cub had reenacted in Seasons 5 and 6, but instead his behavior when he had first joined Hermitcraft. Though Scar was now _very_ good at socializing, being silly, making friends… he hadn’t always been this way. 

Etho remembered the very early days of Season 4, when Scar had acted as though he’d never interacted with anyone else in his entire life. Though it quickly wore off, he had been incredibly unsure in speech, unaware of basic social customs, and avoided nearly everyone with a nervous passion. Which was just - unusual. Even the most isolated of players, living alone in their spawn world, have gone to multiplayer worlds before. 

Etho had, in fact, formed suspicions the moment he first saw Scar spawn into the Season 4 world without a name tag. The hasty commands Xisuma had typed across his visor to quickly fix it certainly did not help the case.

None of the other Hermits had seen it, though - Etho was as sure of that as he could reasonably be. Scar had been brought in a few days after everyone else, and it was only by virtue of sheer luck Etho had been passing by the spawn island that day, intent on collecting some underwater clay.

That didn’t mean Etho hadn’t considered he might just be imagining things for the rest of that season. It was only once Season 5 got going he began to have true suspicions, though of course he couldn’t stick around long enough to confirm them.

Well, here they were. Confirmed in all their frozen blue glory - no wonder Xisuma had told everyone to hide.

Because Scar was a vex acting like a vex, which Etho was rather certain hadn't happened in the past three entire seasons. Now there was the threat of what that could do to the Hermitcraft world. 

And what had happened to Xisuma, as the admin definitely should have been here by now.

That was somewhat concerning. Very concerning, some would even say. Like Scar might have done something questionable to their admin. 

What had happened after Xisuma sent out that warning message?

Etho doubted Scar would ever end up destroying the server on a physical level - his love of beautiful builds meant he would never desecrate them, his own or not. Of course, Etho’s farms weren’t exactly on the pretty side. 

A vex like Scar though, was more likely to lean towards a more psychologically traumatizing approach to players, or at least something very frustrating and raging inducing. 

There was definitely warranted concern for Xisuma now.

Etho sighed. This was a far more complicated situation than what he’d signed for when he agreed to rejoin Hermitcraft. He focused his attention away from his mind and back onto Scar.

Scar, who meanwhile, had stopped building. Etho widened his eyes as the vex abruptly tore through the redstone he’d previously placed, and the faintest whisper of a pained cry reached around his ears.

Scar suddenly stopped his movements, his whole body trembling, but after a few more moments he resumed his endeavor. 

There were intermittent pauses every so often, when Scar would turn to stare into the mottled, shaded landscape, as though reconsidering his choice to not continue his original course of action. But eventually, Etho’s farms were restored to their previous state.

Well, as previous as it would get with half the redstone missing.

 _Now is not the time, Etho_ _,_ he reminded himself.

Did Scar change his mind and decide to find players instead? 

But instead, he flew down through a haze of grey to sit upon a block of snow, staring at the acclimating ground. 

Etho wasn’t quite sure what interesting offer the literal frozen dirt had for Scar, but that wasn’t the part that now churned his mind.

Scar wasn’t smiling. That was something Etho had never seen on a vex before; a grin was basically the species’ default expression, whether it be maniacal and crazed, or self-satisfied and smug as hell. 

But Scar was not smiling. His fingers were clawed around his knees, eyes screwed tight and mouth compressed into a thin, biting line. Slumped and drawn inwards, Scar looked as though he was cowering away from an invisible, looming predator.

And everything about it felt wrong.

It wasn’t just wrong because vexes didn’t behave like this, withdrawn and vulnerable. _Scar_ didn’t behave like this. He _shouldn’t_ have too, because every Hermit loved him; it was such an easy thing to see, the awe and friendliness Scar attracted from everyone he met. 

Etho was at a loss. He had no plan or solution. He had no idea how to handle this. Sure, Scar was not doing anything now. But the wings fluttering behind him were a painful reminder of what state Scar was still in right now - dangerous and unpredictable.

What Etho did know was that he should fire a message in chat about the whole predicament. 

But there was also the question of what the other Hermits would do with Scar.

Which was nothing, really, because they _couldn’t_ do anything. One did not simply try to fight a vex and expect things to go well. This had been proven numerous times in the universe’s history by some very unlucky people.

That being said, Scar was still staring sullenly at the ground. It must be a very interesting block of dirt, Etho decided, if Scar was entranced for so long.

Anyway, but if Scar had been able to retrain his instincts for three seasons, then there was the distinct possibility that he could do it again. And in that case, surely it was _better_ most of the Hermits didn’t know about it? And if he didn’t stop… well, they were facing some serious trouble either way.

Etho had been gone far too long to make an accurate assessment of what the reactions would be, but if even one person agreed to banning Scar from the world even after he managed to get himself under control… 

(It was a scary thought. He’d never heard of it happening before. They needed unanimous consent to add a new member - what happens when someone wants a ban?)

In that situation, Etho wouldn’t want Scar banned. Etho would advocate against it. And so would others, but even the _potential_ for a server-wide split between the Hermits on the issue was a recipe for disaster. 

Vexes were dangerous, everyone knew that. Etho would be a fool if he didn’t say he was scared of them on some level too.

But he could also say, unlike most people, that he believed they deserved a chance as much as anyone else. Other encounters had taught him that much.

Etho frowned, taking another gulp of the invisibility potion.

He didn’t want to see former friends turning against each other over a polarizing disagreement.

He didn’t want everyone not cooperating, breaking established agreements, looking at each other with distrust.

He didn’t want Hermits to decide they were no longer Hermits anymore as more and more cracks form, for them to just leave.

He wasn’t sure he could bear it... again.

Etho stared at Scar, expression still clearly, absolutely _miserable_. 

_Something_ had happened.

Etho stared, and suddenly-

an epiphany struck him.

His fingers curled around his communicator.

* * *

Xisuma tried the command once again, slamming into his tidal wave magic.

Nothing. The invisible blocks were still there, absorbing his efforts like an endless ocean.

Doc had called them “block 36 floating entities,” though Xisuma had no idea how official the term was. Invisible “entities”’ players could waltz through like air without noticing a thing. That objects with gravity could reside in, still stuck in a glitchy, falling state. 

However, it became impossible to hit anything on the other side of it.

Hence why Xisuma was now trapped within a layer of invisible floating entities. The pile of blue concrete powder, glitched and pressing, left him in a world of darkness. A few commands confirmed to Xisuma that the floating entities were also encased in barrier blocks, which would explain why he wasn’t able to simply walk out.

Perhaps more frustrating was that he had implemented a 300 block radius around the area to suppress teleportation magic in a haste to stop Scar. The problem was that it applied to the area itself - which meant _no one_ could teleport within it. It was a messy, complicated web of code Xisuma would have to spend hours clearing it up, hence why he had begun by trying a myriad of other potential solutions.

His sight was blocked by the concrete powder, and external noises had been drowned out by a screeching blizzard throughout nearly an entire night, but that hadn’t stopped him from wondering and worrying and _hoping_. It was probable that both Grian and Cub had been trapped under a similar fate, after all.

Xisuma took a deep breath and forced himself to loosen his rigid hands, slowly peeling them away from crushing his helmet. Here he was, failing to clear up a block glitch while Scar was off… doing whatever. Potentially terrorizing the other hermits, or wreaking havoc on builds -

Xisuma couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of Scar doing anything like that, no matter how hard he tried. But he had to accept the possibility - as Hermitcraft’s admin he could take no chances, and the way Scar had behaved left a dismayed churn within him.

A sinking feeling of despair slowly nestled its way into Xisuma’s mind. How could he fail at such a crucial moment, when Hermitcraft needed him the most? What kind of admin was he?

He’d done so many things wrong. Applied the anti-teleport commands instead just force teleporting Scar back. Allowed himself to be surprised by the floating entities. Didn’t take the entire situation seriously enough until it was too late.

Maybe it had been a mistake to allow Scar and Cub into Hermitcraft in the first place-

No. 

_No._

_Scar, stumbling his way awkwardly through an introduction to the Hermits, so clearly unsure and unprepared and_ scared _. Scar, a smile blossoming on his face, nervous yet delighted, when the Hermits collectively welcomed him into the group with animated hugs and cheers._

 _Scar, wearing a playful smirk as he entered the Hermitville build contest._ _Scar, an expression of pure adoration splayed across his face as he held up a Jellie cat._

Scar was the nicest, friendliest person anyone could hope to meet, Xisuma had no doubt about that.

Allowing Scar in, _that_ would never be a mistake.

But Xisuma had let it go all wrong. It had slipped his mind, when being around players would catch up to them - and he hadn’t even noticed Cub sinking last season.

He should have - researched. Tried to help them. Acted quicker, been more cautious, _more-_

His communicator pinged, and Xisuma jolted.

Xisuma pulled the chat up. 

_ <Etho> whispered to <Xisuma> are you okay? _

Xisuma stared at the message. Of course. How had he not realized before? 

_Just another failure on your part-_

Steadying himself, Xisuma began summoning letters across his visor.

_ <Xisuma> whispered to <Grian> are you still trapped? _

A wave of relief engulfed him as Grian replied a few seconds later.

_ <Grian> whispered to <Xisuma> yep. no luck getting out either, I think the fastest way is completely resetting this area’s code. It's what doc said, I think _

_ <Xisuma> whispered to <Grian> oh I should have thought of that sooner. _

Xisuma was about to add that it would take a while when more messages popped up.

_ <Etho> whispered to <Xisuma> X? You there? _

_ <Cub> whispered to <Xisuma> do you have barrier blocks around you? _

_ <Xisuma> whispered to <Cub> yes _

_ <Xisuma> whispered to <Etho> I’m here. Give me a moment. _

_ <Cub> whispered to <Xisuma> I’ll break them _

Xisuma inhaled a tiny breath, just in time to perceive the distinctive blunt breaking of barrier blocks.

“What happened?” was the immediate response upon stepping through the floating entities and seeing Cub’s downcast expression.

“It-” Cub swallowed, his eyes darting away. “It didn’t go so well. Scar just lifted the anti-movement spell on me - probably got too draining to keep it going for him. I tried to teleport after he walked off, but I think it was your commands that prevented that.”

“Yes,” Xisuma sighed frustratedly. “Should have just forced him back. But of course I had to make a mistake like that.”

Cub was silent as he hurried over to Grian and broke the barrier blocks with a few quick swipes.

“H-oh! Cub! What happened?” Grian asked, glancing around as he stepped away from the floating entities. 

Xisuma followed Grian’s gaze. The moon was just about to dip the horizon, and turning to the east, peaks of transfixing rays slowly began to shine a limelight over rolling waves of fresh, cold white. The blizzard seemed to have passed as well, the entire area now blanketed in several new layers of fresh, thick snow.

Cub slumped against an ice pillar and told them, through halting words, of how Scar had ran off after incapacitating him.

“I don’t - I don’t want Scar to be…” he glanced at Xisuma, eyes resigned and haunted. “You’ll have to ban him, won’t you?”

The fear and guilt in Cub’s eyes did nothing to ease Xisuma’s own anxieties. It was _his_ job to worry over things like this, not the other Hermits’. 

His job to wonder what Scar, as a vex without self-control, without boundaries and rules, would do. Xisuma had heard horror stories; from other admins, the other voidkind, various books and writings.

“I don’t want to resort to that,” he sighed. “And any forceful permanent ban is a group decision. I’ll try to make do with a prison of some kind if we can, but if things get out of control again I will write a ban. Either way, Hermitcraft will have to decide on something afterwards.”

Even the thought of it made Xisuma’s stomach churn, but he couldn’t afford to fail another time. Commands were now running through his mind. Scar had to be stopped, for the sake of Hermitcraft, and it appeared they had wasted an entire night.

Cub looked as though he wanted to respond, but several seconds yielded no additional words.

“Let’s see what state Etho - and his farms - are in first,” Grian said. “He was the most obvious target. And do you have Scar’s coordinates, Ximmervoid?”

“He’s at his own village,” Xisuma said. Notch knows how many times he’d checked that in the past few hours. “Which is strange. And I don’t think he’s moving in one specific direction.”

For a moment he considered splitting them apart, sending Cub or Grian to confirm Etho’s wellbeing. 

But no, they needed all the leverage they could to subdue Scar. They couldn’t take chances.

As soon as the three escaped the anti-teleportation radius, Xisuma transported them to Etho. He hadn’t realized the severity of the situation, back when they decided to fly through the Nether. 

Xisuma had made an error in judgement. 

But Etho, to his relief, escaped fine.

“Thanks for checking up. I was worried for a bit there, Xisuma,” Etho said as he broke down his tree farm’s redstone. A quick examination revealed why - it was a horrendous mess that Xisuma doubted someone like Etho was physically capable of creating. 

“But Scar didn’t even see me, in fact.”

Just as Xisuma prepared to teleport them near Scar’s location, Etho spoke up again.

“You know, Scar was acting rather strange when I saw him. He flew off not long before you guys arrived, but the entire time he was here he wasn’t smiling. He seemed… really sad, actually.”

Xisuma felt Cub stiffen beside him. He wasn’t sure what type of significance that held, and from Grian’s confused expression, neither did he.

But it obviously had to be important. And vexes… Xisuma knew of nothing that explained a vex looking sad before.

Actually, he’d never heard of it happening.

“Just thought you guys should know,” Etho said, eyeing them. “I can’t give you answers even I don’t have, though.”

Cub nodded and tugged at Xisuma’s arm.

“We should get going,” he said. 

Xisuma forced himself pack into the present. With a nod as weighted as heavily as stone, he methodically typed a teleport command to Scar’s base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long… and not much action here, though of course things are still sad for everyone. Well, what can you expect. 
> 
> I planned to have two more perspective shifts initially, but uh, I do want to keep the chapters around the same length. This has already run long rather long (3200 words vs. 2200 words, wow. I let it slide since it adds to the pacing).
> 
> All hail Etho the unexpected exposition lol. He was originally only supposed to be referenced, but the way I edited chapter 3 just made me completely rehaul the plot for this (another reason why I took so long). But anyway, I hope I utilized his “age” in an interesting way. There’s really no concept of “aging” in the Minecraft universe, so since Etho is both a genius, very weird, and one of the earliest Minecraft Youtubers and players, I figured it would make sense to play into that and get a new perspective on the whole situation. 
> 
> Scar did in fact miss the very first day of Hermitcraft Season 4 (and borrowed Wels’ footage for it instead). It was due to unfortunate health complications. I definitely reinterpreted his first few weeks on the server to fit this story, though there are a few things to note - Season 4 began with the merging of Hermitcraft and Kingdomcraft. Kingdomcraft was the server Iskall, Cub, Wels, Ren, Stress, and Scar had been playing on, which shut down shortly before HC S4 began. And everyone I mentioned had been on the server for a good while, including Cub (he won a UHC with Iskall, by the way), except Scar. He’d only joined a month before the series closed, so when rumors of a KC and HC merger began to circulate, especially when Xisuma announced 5 new Hermits, everyone expected Stress, or one of the other Kingdomcrafters not mentioned to be on the list instead of Scar. Before KC, Scar almost exclusively made videos about building tips or his singleplayer world (which is absolutely gorgeous, by the way). And the first few episodes of Scar’s HC S4 series had very little interaction with other hermits. He was just building a campsite on his own.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading this far! I struggled a lot with this chapter, so comments about what you thought, constructive criticism, ect. would be greatly appreciated!
> 
> (Really, comments are super appreciated).


	5. Pinpoint

The command landed them a dozen blocks outside the village perimeter, and as soon as Grian’s feet touched the ground he cleared his throat.

“We can’t just charge at Scar and hope for the best this time,” Grian said. _We shouldn’t have done that in the first place either. Should have known better._ Quite frankly, _he_ should have known better. “We need to take a moment to strategize. Xisuma, at what point would you consider things bad enough to use /ban?”

“If I think Scar has a danger of causing significant destruction or may escape confinement attempts,” Xisuma said quickly.

“If your answer is so prepared, then I presume you’ve come up with a plan?” Grian continued, glancing at Cub. The other vex seemed to be staring into what must be a very interesting jungle tree.

“I wish,” Xisuma muttered. “The only thing I have so far is to keep him in a death loop using a kill command instead until he… stops? Controls himself again? Would you say that’s even likely to happen?” 

They both turned to Cub. After a few seconds of glassy eyes and no response, Grain reached over and gently prodded his shoulder.

“...he’ll tire eventually,” Cub said finally, blinking and now looking deeply uncomfortable. “Our instincts do sometimes burn themselves out if the vex in question doesn't actually want to continue, though he might faint from exhaustion before that happens.”

“If I just ban Scar now we’ll have no idea where he’ll decide to go,” Xisuma sighed. “His mob status means his communicator won’t be transported with him, so we’d have no way of contacting him once he controls himself and can come back again. And I’m not the admin of any other world, so coordinate searching is off the table.”

“Where _would_ Scar even decide to go?” Grian asked. He still didn’t know much about the former lives of... most of the Hermits, really. Like himself, most of them avoided the topic ardently. It took a special kind of person to be willing to isolate from the rest of the entire universe, after all.

“The world he lived in before he met me and the other Kingdomcrafters, probably,” Cub said. “There's no players on it. I’m not sure whether that makes it more likely or less, though.”

“This would be easier if we manage to just paralyze his ability to use magic,” Xisuma said. “Cub, vex magic tends to revolve around affecting entities, right? Does your own magic have anything that could do that? Or at least give me an opening to bind his magic?”

Grian blinked as Cub quickly paled, seemingly drawing himself closer together as he refused to meet either of their eyes. 

“I-”

He broke off and mumbled indiscernibly, taking a small step away from them. 

“Cub?” Xisuma asked warily. Cub shook his head and buried his face into stiff, shuddering hands.

For what was perhaps the first time ever, Grian realized, he was seeing Cub _scared._ Something about that felt… wrong. Cub was always composed, the one who knew what he was doing - to an unnatural degree, now that Grian thought about it.

“Cub,” Grian said softly. “We won’t hold any of this against you. I promise. But if you have any answers we need to hear them.” He shot Xisuma a glare, and thankfully their admin quickly nodded in confirmation.

“...thanks,” Cub whispered, slowing drawing his hands down. “You’ve all heard those horror stories of players wandering into the wrong woodland mansions?”

Grian thinks he’s heard more than enough vex-related horror stories to last him a hundred updates.

“There’s always something involving players blacking out and waking up in a completely different place, isn’t there?” Cub continued. “The blackout thing - it’s actual magic vexes use. Most of us can force a mob or player into unconsciousness, given the right circumstances. The problem is that I need complete concentration and some time to do it.”

“Could you theoretically do it while I force Scar into a death loop?” Xisuma asked. “In a case like this I think we should utilize your magic if we can.”

Something deeply pained crossed Cub’s face. He took a shuddering breath and looked as though he’d just been asked to set everyone into hardcore.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never heard of any vex trying it.”

“Very specific scenario,” Grian agreed. “I don’t think we should risk it in the first place, in case any of Scar’s code gets corrupted in any way. Too much of a risk with mobs.”

“Right,” Xisuma said, looking down. “I… hadn’t considered that.”

“It could work too if we get him to not distract me and stay in one place,” Cub sighed. “But I doubt that plan’s reliability. Especially since he could just do the same thing to me, effectively leaving us in a stalemate.”

“Fighting him again is risky, even if we do have numbers,” Grian said, mind racing. But no power he had jumped out as a particularly reliable base for developing a plan. “The problem is that mine and Xisuma's magic is comparatively unsuited to fighting vexes, and unlike Scar we have to hold back.”

“...we’ll give Scar a warning first,” Xisuma said finally. “About using a ban command. And if that doesn’t deter him on anything, we’ll try fighting again, and just wear him down until he stops, or if Cub is able to. If I feel like Scar will escape to do more damage in any way, I’ll use /ban.”

“What about afterwards?” Cub asked. He’d been playing with his lab coat collar for the entire conversation, Grian noted, now leaving it a mess of faded wrinkles. 

“If I use the ban command, we’ll have to tell the other Hermits, no doubt about it,” Xisuma said. “And decide as a group when to find Scar and let him back in, and how we’ll deal with you two’s… situation going forward.”

Though Xisuma’s expression was always hidden behind that visor, he sounded almost… apologetic. Once again, Grian found himself thankful to not be an admin anymore.

“If it doesn’t get to that point, then… we’ll see when we get there,” Xisuma continued. 

“Since I’m the one at the biggest disadvantage here,” Grian added, “I should probably go first. We’ll enter on foot into the village, and if Scar has any sudden tricks waiting to surprise us, I’ll hopefully be the only one taken out.”

“No, I-”

“Xisuma, you’re too important,” Grian interrupted. He took a deep breath. He could do this. He’d done worse before. “And Cub, don’t even start. You’ve got the best shot at fighting Scar. I’ll go first to draw Scar out, and warn him about the ban threat. You two will stay back and only join in when things escalate.”

“I’m the admin-” Xisuma began, only for Grian to quickly slice that argument.

“And it’s your job to handle this? Well, remember that your responsibility is to all of Hermitcraft, and the best chance of stopping Scar is for me to go in first so you can be on standby with /ban. Since you’re the only one who can use it, we have to maximize the chances of you not getting trapped again.”

“That goes for you too, Cub,” Grian added, hoping to glare sense into both of them. “Vex abilities are a lot more suited to fighting other vexes, since void powers mainly affect the environment instead of other entities.”

“I have to be careful with it too, you know,” said Cub, looking away. But he didn’t argue further.

Xisuma sighed. 

“Any sign of trouble, and I’ll come rushing,” he said.

“Right,” said Grian. He turned his head towards the village, faint, colorful glows permeating through leafy windows, the tang of greenery imbued into the air itself. “Scar hasn’t moved, has he?”

“No,” Xisuma said. “I’ve been checking. He’s still there.”

“Let’s go, then,” Grian said. And he began to stride forward.

As they hacked and slashed their way through jungle foliage, none of them bothered to remain silent - if Scar wanted to know their locations, he would know. 

“Something feels wrong,” Xisuma said as they neared the end of the bushy barrier, glancing around. 

“We’ll have to replace some of these leaves later,” Cub murmured. “This village is supposed to be mob-proof.”

Oh. Right. Scar had spent too much time wrangling those villagers to lose them like this - Grian made a mental note to comb the place over if their next encounter went well.

“What could Scar still be doing in his village?” Xisuma muttered, seemingly to himself. “There’s few-”

Grian froze as he broke through foliage and set foot on the interior.

The crystal center of the village, previously streaked with glass of brilliant blue, now came before their sight.

“Oh,” Xisuma said faintly from behind him.

Grian had remembered it as a shining beacon of the village, centerpiece to the sprawl of hunchback cottages, mythical creatures and mysterious, creeping flora.

It now lay shattered across cobble and grass, a million sparking stars under morning sunlight. Cats and ocelots occasionally skittered across the space in a way Grian dared called _unusually nervous_.

He heard Cub muffle a gasp.

“Larry,” Xisuma said, looking away from the crystal shards.

“Well, I go first like we promised,” Grian sighed. He rocketed up to the snail, oddly still doorless. From the angle, he could see no one.

Grian leaned in cautiously and began taking a few steps inside. 

“Look, I’m sorry-”

He froze as Scar’s muffled voice projected from below the floor.

“I know you like the jungle, I can find a new one-”

A distraught trill abruptly cut him off.

Well, it appears Scar still wasn’t paying attention.

Grian loudly cleared his throat, shuffling in place. 

There was an abrupt, noisy slam of something banging harshly against wood; and then the stairs began to thump.

“Scar-”

Grian broke off.

Scar looked… he didn’t want to say _awful,_ but in Grian’s own personal, humble opinion, it would be a pretty damn close description. His hair was wild with twisting tangles and wayward tufts, robes crinkled and tattered, and despite eyes still glowing blue, dark bags seemed to shadow beneath them.

“Uh-”

Grian took a deep breath. His talent for talking seemed to be flying away. He grabbed onto its wings and shoved it back down his throat.

“Scar. If you don’t stop, Xisuma won’t hesitate to use his ban command. And if-”

A very disgruntled Jellie hissed from Scar’s arms, narrowing her eyes directly into Grian’s. He could swear the tabby was now expressing… _annoyance_ at him.

“Look,” Scar said raggedly. “I’m sorry. I want to say I didn’t mean it, but I _did_. I know what- I’ll-”

He stumbled forward. Grian skittered backwards and hastily slammed a palm against smooth, stripped logs in an unsuccessful attempt to not tumble out of Larry’ shell. 

_If only there was a door handle I could have used_ , he thought wryly as he scrambled up.

“What happened?” Xisuma asked as soon as he teleported over, Cub quickly following with his elytra.

“Scar-”

“I’m here,” Scar said, flying down. Against all odds, he seemed... _frightened,_ shrinking into himself in a way not unlike Cub had, his entire body twitching in sudden, periodic jumpscares. “I-I understand I can’t be here anymore. I’ll leave.”

Grian frowned. _Leave?_

Cub hissed, taking a few slow step towards Scar. Grian could see the way every muscle seemed to tense in both of them as they regarded each other.

“Scar,” Cub said.

“Leave...what?” Xisuma asked cautiously. Turning his head, Grian was close enough to see _/kill GoodTimeWithScar_ appear across his visor, ready to be deployed.

“I thought you would know?” Scar asked, actually seeming confused, at the same time Cub sharply, frantically said,

“No, Scar, you don’t have to-”

“Leave Hermitcraft.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needless to say there’s lots of reading between the lines here. That last line might be a bit confusing, but if this was a normal book you’d turn to the next chapter and be like “ooh”. Hopefully. Alas, you'll have to put up with me and my procrastination.
> 
> If you want even more worries and anticipations regarding when I’ll update, my profile updates ~~daily~~ sometimes with my progress on the next chapter.
> 
> This isn’t a chapter I felt particularly good or satisfied with completing, and I think overall it’s a rather weak ramp. However, if you guys really enjoyed this fic otherwise I would ask a favor. After I’ve completed this fully, sit down and read the entire thing again, and then comment telling me how you felt about it after that. I think whether good or bad there really is a difference between reading it in one or two sittings versus reading it sporadically because the author doesn’t know what schedules are.
> 
> (As usual, comments appreciated...)
> 
> The shoutout for nerdpersonKT one chapter too late for being the closest to the answer of where the trap Scar used on Grain and Xisuma came from. Here is a link to Doc’s twitter post - https://twitter.com/docm77/status/1253086320861294594
> 
> Also, his “Plushies” episode. He explains it in much more detail. It’s really interesting.
> 
> Also, if you've noticed that sometimes sentences end with a space between the last word in the period, like "no ." that's bug with copy paste. It happens especially often with italics, and I'm not sure why. But when I move it from Google Docs over to the Ao3 text box, sometimes it happens. I've tried to fix them all before I post a chapter, but a few always sneak by.
> 
> I mentioned how the working title when I started writing was “Glowing Azure” to my sistersn and they're like “why didn’t you make it the title?” 
> 
> Me: Well it would be an obvious reference to vex eyes, except I describe them as blue the entire time. Two reasons - one is that “vex blue” flows better and is more iconic than “vex azure”, and also “azure” is much more specific than blue, as it is a shade of blue. It might seem like a good thing on the surface but because Scar’s eyes are given so much focus in the fic as the main symbol of his nature, I need to be able to write it differently as the situation demands (aka as Scar’s psyche, actions, and emotions change descriptions of his eyes need to change accordingly, even if they’re “blue” the entire time). Azure limits my ability to do that by being so specific (and so does glowing actually). The thing is, even if Scar’s eyes are always glowing azure because Minecraft headcannon biology and azure is a shade of blue, the reader’s perception of them still has to move significantly with each different description, and the specificity (now try saying that 3x fast) of “Glowing Azure” will detract from that mentally, and also not work with the descriptions using “blue”, even if it is technically correct. But “Glowing Blue” or [adjective] Blue” does not a good, mind-catching title make, assuming I can even find a fitting adjective.
> 
> My sisters: Soo… why is it called “those maddening cir-”
> 
> Me: OKAY CONVERSATION OVER-
> 
> *Sighs dramatically* I’ve exchanged one mistake with another…at least this one has no contradictions. But yes, if I had given this much thought into reasoning why “Glowing Azure” shouldn’t be the title, I probably shouldn't have gone with the mess it is now. I refer to it as “Maddening Circles” for short, you can too.
> 
> It was inspired by other fanfiction titles that are of similar style, but I only learned recently (aka after I started this) that most are song lyrics, of which this isn’t.
> 
> Oh well.
> 
> Scar is a Hermitcraft fanfiction writer lol. Check out his “The lore of Hermitcraft Season 5” video. Oh, that was such a great season, so underrated (as is Season 4, and Season 3…). Whenever I’m writing this fic, I’m usually listening to either the superfast build mode song or the superfast harvest mode song, Howling and Hadouken, both by Lupus Nocte. Inspires me to work at it just a fraction of how much Scar works at his builds!
> 
> This conversation popped up in my head while I was writing this-  
> Cub: Scar  
> Scar: Yeeeeesss?  
> Cub: Why is everyone else suddenly complaining about trapped bases?  
> Scar: Um.  
> Scar: A wizard did it.  
> Cub: ...Scar.  
> Scar: Damnit!
> 
> I don’t know this was just a random thought.
> 
> Tries to research a technical term for paved paths that aren’t lined with stone or concrete, like the paved grass blocks, end up reading a ton of articles about desire paths instead and never found what I was originally looking for. (P.S. they’re very interesting. Desire paths form when enough people take a shortcut through a place you’re not intended to walk on that a visible path starts to form. Very interesting reads about psychology and traffic design).


	6. Refusal

_“Nice to meet you, Scar! Just call me Ren,” the player smiled. “Renthedog” was the name tag that hovered above, reminding Scar once again of the frightening new addition to his own body. He forced himself to smile at the player_ (Ren, _Scar reminded himself._ Use their names. It’s Ren).

_Scar also found himself shuffling a bit closer to Welsknight. As the one who’d invited him to join, he was the only presence even remotely familiar among the new players_

_Looking around at the players once again, in fact, Scar felt his heartbeat begin to quicken. Having found himself constantly grappling with nervousness and fear for the past few days, ever since he’d agreed to enter Kingdomcraft, Scar wondered not for the first time if he’d made a mistake._

_“Iskall,” the player across from Scar introduced. Scar silently tried to even out his breath, choosing to focus his eyes on the chests stacked at the back of the dining room. The item frames on them held redstone lamps, he noted._

_Welsknight gently nudged Scar’s shoulder, forcing his eyes and attention back onto the other players. Scar hastily smiled once again, trying his best to make it warm and friendly, nodding._

_After a few tense moments, Scar realized he was supposed to say something._

_“Um, nice to meet you?”_

_He cringed. It was so obvious he had absolutely_ no _idea what to say, what to do, what any normal player would respond with in situations even as mundane as this one._

_“Very nice to meet you too, man,” Ren grinned. It was a strange sort of grin Scar was unfamiliar with. He gripped the edge of the dining table. Was it a joke? Was it a threat?_

_“Yeah, Wels told us about your amazing building talent,” Iskall added. “You better make us the most gorgeous paths ever, Mr. Scar. Notch knows we need more landscapers.”_

_Was_ that _a joke?_

_“Let the rest o’ us introduce ourselves ‘afore ya get all grabby on ‘im, Iskall,” another player chuckled. She turned to Scar. “M’ name’s Stress, dear. Glad to meet ya.”_

_“Glad to meet you,” Scar echoed. He slowly turned to the last player at the table, who was slowly sipping some rabbit stew while staring at Scar with an indecipherable look._

_He was also the only one not smiling._

_“Cub, gotta introduce yourself too,” Ren said. He nudged said player._

_“Cub” blinked and set down the bowl._

_“I’m Cub,” he said simply._

_Scar shifted uneasily. Had he done something wrong, to offend Cub? Did Cub..._ know? _Welsknight must have sensed his unease, because the Kingdomcraft admin then cleared his throat._

_“We’re all very glad to have you on Kingdomcraft, Scar,” he said resolutely. “I’m sure you’ll fit in great with the rest of us.”_

_“Yeah, don’t mind Cub,” Iskall snickered. “He's such a killjoy sometimes.”_

_“Aww, Cub’s jus’ shy,” Stress said, patting Cub’s shoulder. “He’ll warm up ta ya.”_

_“I’m not-” Cub stopped, looking uncomfortable. “It’s - nothing. Nevermind.” He turned his gaze away and resumed his focus on the rabbit stew._

_Scar forced himself to stop clawing underneath the table before he made noticeable scratch marks. Instead he turned focused back on Welsknight, who had the shadow of a frown gracing his lips._

_“Well, Scar, we have plenty of empty rooms and beds around here,” Ren said brightly, nudging Iskall. “Feel free to take your pick. Since you’re one of us now, you can use any resources available. We share everything here.”_

_Scar nodded along, not knowing what to say._

_“Speakin’ ‘o sleep, it‘s gettin’ late,” Stress yawned. “Bedtime, anyone?”_

_“Sure, now that you say it,” Ren agreed. “I’m feeling tired.”_

_Welsknight nodded in affirmation._

_“Night night,” Iskall grinned, standing up. “Goodbye, Scar.”_

_“I think I’ll work on the wheat farms,” Cub muttered so quietly Scar had to strain his ears to hear. He glanced around, wondering if anyone else picked up what Cub had said. But the other players were standing up and heading for the door, so Scar began to follow suit._

_“Just pick a house anywhere along this street,” Welsknight said as Scar stepped out onto the cobbly road. “They should all have a bed in them.”_

_Scar nodded. He felt his heartbeat slow down. He could do this. He picked out a house with a beautiful cyan terracotta roof and prepared to cross._

_“And Scar?”_

_Scar turned, blinking at Welsknight. Welsknight smiled, in a way Scar dared and hoped to call_ welcoming _, if he were to guess._

_“Welcome to Kingdomcraft.”_

* * *

Scar knew what he was doing.

He did. He _absolutely_ did. He may be crazy, but he wasn’t ignorant.

Ever since he’d stopped using his magic, the itch in his fingers had been gradually spreading. It crept like jungle vines up his body, towards his mind, determined to reattach itself at its rightful place in the center of his code.

Scar had always ignored it. Not just in Season 7, but since he had first begun living among players and forced himself to restrain those instincts.

* * *

_Scar’s second day on Kingdomcraft saw him being dragged out to build paths by Iskall._

_He’d expected to work in silence, simply doing his part, but Iskall quickly started talking and the others quickly joined in, making it clear conversation was the norm._

_After so long in a world all to himself, with neither players or other vexes, Scar was unused to anything but his own drifting thoughts accompanying him while building. But Iskall and Wels were clearly not accepting that._

* * *

Scar did _not_ want to think of the other Hermits right now. He didn’t want to think about Iskall’s boisterous laughter or Ren’s dramatic proclamations or Wels’ easygoing tone and they way they all joked-

He wanted to _\- needed_ to - forget-

* * *

_“Scar, these are really nice,” Iskall said. “We need paths… to pretty much everywhere, but extend that part out to the river, alright? A bridge will be built there sometime.”_

_Scar nodded._

_“By the way,” Iskall barreled on, “do sheep have hair or fur?”_

_“Um,” Scar glanced at the nearby sheep that had captivated Iskall’s attention. “Fur, I think.”_

_“Because I was having this discussion with Ren the other day about whether horsi have hair or fur,” Iskall continued._

_“They have hair, don’t they?” Wels called from atop the windmill._

_“Yeah, but what’s the difference?” Iskall mused._

_“Maybe the length,” Scar found himself suggesting. He blinked, hands freezing._

_“Yeah, probably,” Iskall continued, unaware of Scar’s reaction to continuing casual conversation. “Maybe texture too, like hair is coarser or something.”_

_“Y-yeah,” Scar nodded, feeling the need to respond. He tried smiling at Iskall affirmatively, like he’d seen Ren do._

_“Sheep_ are _rather fluffy and soft compared to horses,” Cub said. Scar whirled around to see he had moved behind Scar a dozen blocks away to work on a new building._

_“Yeah. I don’t really like sheep, though,” Iskall said._

_“Why?” Scar asked - and then to his horror, he realized indignance had seeped through his tone. Quickly he glanced at Welsknight, but he showed no obvious reaction. Iskall, meanwhile, appeared to shrug it off. But Scar knew how easily thoughts could be concealed._

_“Well, they get in your way when you’re trying to build, for one,” Iskall huffed. “What, are they your favorite mob or something?”_

_“Er - no. I like guardians better,” Scar mumbled._

_“Guardians. Really?” Cub said. Was Scar imagining something accusatory in the tone?_

_“Well...their one eye looks...cute. Derpy. And the magical death lasers are really cool,” Scar said._

_“Their magical death lasers and stupid thorns are the most annoying things to ever exist,” Iskall grumbled. “It’s_ such _a pain to deal with, you know.”_

_Scar nodded - but he actually didn’t know. Guardians were neutral to mobs other than squids, and that included vexes. Most of his time with them had been spent in spectator mode anyways, flying through the water like air with ease, night vision turned up to fully absorb every detail of the sea temples._

_For a brief moment, he felt another flicker of anxiety towards his neutral status with mobs. But Welsknight had promised he’d changed that when Scar arrived, and he had been attacked by creepers on the world tour._

_Just in case, Scar reminded himself to do some tests later, when he was alone and away from prying eyes._

_One set of prying eyes in particular. Scar could feel Cub’s gaze bore into him from behind._

_“Well, what is_ your _favorite mob then, Iskall?” Welsknight asked._

_“Well, pigs are the least disturbing,” Iskall replied. Scar paused his block placing to process that. Was - was “disturbing” a normal metric for players to judge how much they liked something by?_

_“But cows are really useful. Chickens are useful too - more useful than cows, actually, because you have a food source_ and _a feather source, and you don’t need to breed them manually,” Iskall continued, “So chickens. But then, chickens are really annoying too, because they just drop eggs everywhere and it’s kind of disgusting. So I guess not chickens? Cows, then.”_

_“Make up your mind, Iskall,” Cub laughed. Scar started. He’d never heard Cub laugh before. There was something oddly familiar in the way the vibrations seemed to echo deeply in his ears-_

_“Oh, I know what mob is my favorite,” Iskall suddenly piped. “Rabbits! Because I never,_ ever _see them!”_

_Scar somehow found himself choking on thin air. Cub rolled his eyes._

_“Wow, Iskall,” Welsknight said in a distinctly unimpressed voice. “Cub?”_

_“Cows,” Cub replied after a second. “They’re the most useful, after all. Steak and leather, can’t really go without them.”_

_“You guys are_ all _killjoys,” Welsknight sighed. “But I suppose mine would be cows too.”_

_“Okay, what about flowers? Favorite flowers?” Iskall glanced at Scar. “Scar, since you’re the new guy, you go first.”_

_“Oh, um…” Scar hesitated. What did Iskall mean? Why were new people required to go first? “The - the white ones with the small petals. Not the oxeye daisies, the other ones. Lily of the valleys. They’re the flowers I usually use when I need to brighten up a build.”_

_“Hmm, okay.” Okay? Was Iskall saying something else? Was Scar just imagining things? “Wels?”_

_Scar took a deep breath and continued on the pathway. He was almost done putting in the andesite bits._

_And as he continued, allowing himself to be pulled along by the flow of conversation, Scar felt almost -_ happy _, in a way he’d never felt before._

* * *

_forget-_

No, he had to _focus._ Direct his magic, don’t lose control-

Scar took a deep breath and steeled his mind back to the present, forcing himself to meet Cub’s horrified expression. His eyes reflected Scar’s figure like still forest ponds after morning rain, clear and shimmery, ripples occasionally dancing across their surface.

 _“Leave Hermitcraft?”_ Xisuma repeated, shock lacing his tone.

“You mean… leave permanently?” Grian asked. “That - that doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Scar choked out, clutching Jellie close. He took a step back, trying not to shudder - from what, even, Scar couldn’t pinpoint. Fear? Anger? Surprise? “I’m just an idiot for not realizing from the start.”

He forced himself to stand confidently. Push everything else aside, focus on what he needed to do.

Inching a small step forward, Scar glanced at Xisuma. The admin didn’t have any codes ready to be deployed, but-

“Why would - that was never a consideration!” Xisuma said. Scar could hear the frown. “Come on Scar, why would you think you had to leave Hermitcraft? Permanently?”

He seemed mostly confused, but there was a betrayed expression on Grian’s face, and Cub, he-

Cub looked _furious._

“Scar, I didn’t-” Cub paused, struggling for words. Cold dread began to pool in Scar’s stomach, but he didn’t look away, _forced_ himself to not look away. “Don’t use my questions as leverage. I - your answer was _wrong._ ”

It sounded as though Cub was forcing every word through grindstones, the way they dragged and scraped against Scar’s ear. Cub himself was tearing at a bit of lab coat so hard Scar could see individual feathery threads waving softly with every slight movement.

“It - it’s _not_ ,” Scar whispered. “Don’t blame yourself, Cub, would you rather I had-”

_He wasn’t focusing._

Grain looked lost, glancing between the two.

“Okay,” he said. “You guys need to stop talking in subtext and start communicating to the rest of us better.”

Scar took a few steps back.

“I’m _such an idiot,_ ” Cub snapped miserably, not even sparing Grian a glance. His eyes were still focused directly, piercingly, at Scar. “That’s what this is about. Xisuma, yell at Scar we’d rather have him on Hermitcraft to his face, if he won’t listen to me-”

“I _am_ listening,” Scar snapped. “I’m _listening,_ and I’ve decided that you’re _wrong._ " Where was Cub’s logical, analytical mind here? Why couldn’t Cub understand the risks - assess them like Scar had, and realize it - _all_ of it - was futile effort?

Cub was better than that. _Why was he acting like this?_

Grian gaped at the two like they were trying to tear each other’s throats out. 

“Scar, exiling yourself is… extreme,” Xisuma said, looking pained. The admin took a step forward and reached out a hand. “We’re not banning you permanently. Or even temporarily, if you cooperate.”

“And I _am_ cooperating,” Scar said. None of them could see the true danger, not even Cub, it seemed. “But my best isn’t good enough. I’ll fail. I _have_ failed-”

He bit his lip, holding back a stream of apologies.

Deep down, Scar always knew this would happen. One day, his nature would overtake the tangled, broken mess of sheer willpower that was hooking him back from becoming who he truly was. That line would snap - and so would he. It would not be a pretty day for Hermitcraft.

Scar didn’t know whether his previous refusals to address it had been a pathetic effort to milk his time with the Hermits for as long as he could, or if he had truly been in denial for so long. In the end, it didn’t really matter.

Cub shook his head weakly at Scar. 

“Scar, you can’t-” his voice had taken a pleading tone. “Don’t judge yourself by that.”

“...please,” Cub continued when Scar remain silent. “I - it’s not just me. All the Hermits - would want you to stay. You _can’t_ just leave, you-”

He broke off, looking lost. His glassy eyes seemed to brighten, the sight leaving Scar feeling oddy light-headed, like he was floating in a dream.

“You should understand,” Scar said, taking a step back. “You of all people should understand.”

* * *

_“It won’t happen again,” Cub said, pacing almost frenetically around the Concorp meeting board. “Even if I have to ban myself from competitions.”_

_“Don’t say that,” Scar protested, seated at one of the table’s ends. “Demise wasn’t your fault. Everyone went a bit overboard.”_

_“But we’re the only ones who could have got too dangerous with it,” Cub muttered. “And undeniably, I went much crazier than everyone else. No, I can’t - I didn’t get this far just to_ ruin _everything because I got too carried away by some stupid competition.”_

_Scar flinched quietly, but Cub’s attention immediately snapped back onto him._

_“Sorry, I - I didn’t mean it like that, Scar,” Cub quickly added. “You’re doing fine.”_

_“I don’t feel fine, Cub,” Scar whispered. He frowned, cleared his throat and tried to sound stronger.. “I had to leave for an abandoned world to cool off. But the impulses are still there.” It got so bad he had to_ leave-

_“We’ll figure it out,” Cub reassured. “Remember I’ll always help, however I can, Scar. And you’ll stop me, if I begin to do something again.”_

_Scar nodded, but his hands were still clenched anxiously. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to believe it like Cub could._

_He turned away, not meeting Cub’s eyes._

* * *

For the first time, Scar cursed himself for hiding his weaknesses so well. 

_“But you don’t understand,”_ he whispered quietly to himself. _“And it’s my fault.”_

His magic tugged insistently around his mind again. It was channeling faster now, with more substance to grip onto.

Xisuma took a small step towards him. The admin’s hands were now lowered, fingers unnaturally still as they hung from his side. 

“Scar,” he said, with only the faintest hint of a quaver. “ _I’m_ not forcing you to leave. _No one_ is. And I know you would rather be with Hermitcraft than alone, so you don’t have to-”

 _“But I_ **_DO_** _!”_ Scar suddenly bursted. “ ** _I do, why can’t any of you s̴̊ë̷e̵͝,̷ ̵̓I’m ̶̌ju̵̾ṣ̴͑t̵͈̊ ̶ä̴́ ̵̓w̶̃a̷lk̴̜̾in̶̏g̶͑ ̵̥̓d̸is̵̋a̸̓s̶ter to Hermitcraft waiting t̴o̴ ̴̈́ k̶͘ḯ̴ll̶ ̸̣̏s̵̛͉ȯ̸͔m̶͉̿ḙ̴̂ỏ̴̺n̴̨̆é̷̪!̴̦̍! Don’t you care about the Hermits!?”_ **

* * *

_“Grian, you should leave,” Scar said. He smiled._

_Grian did not leave. Grian narrowed his eyes. Grian clutched his communicator and stared at Scar like one might stare at a charged creeper - a rare curiosity too valuable to simply kill, but also a dangerous creature that needed to be contained at all costs._

_Something within Scar twisted. A part of him wanted to reach out and cry and beg Grian to understand, to see that he was still Scar; Scar, his friend - Scar, a Hermit._

_Scar, who deserved a place in this world just as much as any other player._

_A part of Scar wanted to prove all those assumptions he’d seen behind Grian’s expression right, and go even further beyond._

* * *

“Scar!” Xisuma gasped. “We don’t -"

Scar hissed, wings shuddered in distress. Why wouldn’t any of them just **_let him go?_ **Wasn’t Xisuma supposed to put the wellbeing of _Hermitcraft_ first? He stumbled a few blocks back, forcing his wings to stop flapping incessantly. 

**“I** ** _have_** **to leave!"** No, he couldn’t continue an outburst like this, _too dangerous-_ “ **I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens with me and someone ends up hurt or - or** ** _de̸ȧ̴d̶̖͋-_ "**

Scar choked back a sob, staggering against a bush. His shaking hands clutched desperately at the leaves, trying to support himself while what felt like the void itself was strangling his legs. 

_In, out, in out. Don’t lose control. Don’t lose control._

_You can’t lose control, can’t fail now, don’t be an idiot-_

Maybe all of this made him a coward. A failure who couldn’t make do with the cards he’d been dealt, not like Cub, always so controlled and sure. But Scar struggled and struggled for three entire seasons and there was just _no way he could continue without something terrible happening and wasn’t it better for everyone if he removed himself before the inevitable happened-_

* * *

_“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msosorry-”_

_“Woah there, Scar,” Joe said, putting up his hands. “It’s alright, all that happened was a little tumble which, quite frankly, I needed in order to see the truth deep within our ministry, you know? The way we administer dastardly pitfalls for our own mindsets, that regretful species of traps.”_

_Scar locked his body into place, fighting the impulse to shake his head furiously._

Where was it!? Where was the code, turn it off, turn it off-

_“I didn’t mean it," Scar gasped, stumbling back. “I thought you were- I’ve fixed it-“ what had he done? Changing a player’s mode to hardcore, he would get banned-_

_“Woah there, it’s alright. There’s no need to worry,” Joe said, smiling reassuringly. “Did I look dashing in solid gold, perchance?”_

_Xisuma wouldn’t know, Scar realized. No one would know. And horror seeped into his mind, crawling through to chill his entire body._

_No one would know. No one would ever know-_

* * *

Scar took a deep breath. His mind. His magic. Cub. _Don’t wander_ _now_. 

_“Panic leads to loss of control. Never forget that_.” 

And right now, control was more important than ever. He had to do a better job.

Finally, Scar chanced a glance at the crystal.

Already shattered, the pieces strewn about provided a conduit for his magic to form. Not as good as vex magic blocks, but it worked well enough as a substitute. A swirling black hole was already gathering deep below in the basin where the crystal had once sat - a portal created from vex magic, volatile and dangerous. Without command blocks or the void to stabilize it, only the creator vex could control the destination of whatever entered.

Just a few more minutes, and it would be fully formed.

Scar focused on Cub’s previous words, the question that had grounded him, gave him a moment of clarity long enough to wrench himself out of his vex mindset and realize-

_“Are you a Hermit, Scar?”_

_“I -_

**_I̷ gu̸e̵s̵s̶ ̵I̵̾’̷m̷̃ ̴͝n̵o̸̾t̷ ̶̬̇à̷ñ̵͖y̴̛m̶̻͒o̷̥͐r̷͒ͅe̴̮̓.”_ **

Perhaps, he never was. Perhaps, it had only ever been an illusion, a dream, a flight of fancy, that he could possibly coexist with players without eventually bringing misery and destruction.

Cub shook his head insistently. Scar could make out a faint sheen of glassy blue in his eyes. It was solid and crystalline clear, magic channeled _exactly_ how Cub wanted to in a way Scar could never hope to achieve.

Whatever it was that Cub had, the way he moved and talked and thought like other players, the way he controlled his magic and instincts to go exactly where _he_ wanted them to go - that was something Scar would _never_ have, no matter how hard he tried. 

* * *

_The moon was already climbing high - everyone else was asleep by now, or tucked away in their bases, instead of roaming outside with mobs out for blood._

_Scar, however, took the night as his chance to explore without encountering players. He didn’t trust himself not to say something wrong._

_The shopping district, this early in the season, was still mostly barren. But a few buildings dotted the area, and so Scar began heading towards a red terracotta one structured with oak, signs still too distant to make out their words._

_“What are you doing here?” The question, measured and monotone, nonetheless sliced the still air like a pickaxe through water._

_Scar whirled around and whipped out his sword. The tip of the awkwardly gripped blade met the face of Cubfan135, standing silent and still with hands clasped behind him._

_“I - I - sorry!” Scar scrambled to lower the sword, nearly dropping it in the process; but eventually he managed to store it back into his inventory. “I thought - I-” Why hadn’t he sensed Cub? Vexes were so attuned to the presence of nearby players, but Cub had given off… nothing._

_“It’s alright,” Cub said evenly._

_“Oh.”_

_Scar stared blankly for a few seconds, before realizing Cub was still waiting for an answer._

_“I was… exploring the shopping district.”_

_That sounded far too hesitant for the truth._

_“In the middle of the night?”_

_Something within Scar strained. There was something wrong. And quite frankly, he was tired of playing Cub’s games._

_“Well, I could ask you the same question, couldn’t I?” he bit back._

_Cub blinked._

_“Yes, you could,” he said. “I was just out for a walk.”_

_“In the middle of the night?” Scar arched an eyebrow._

_“It’s much cooler. Quieter. More peaceful, if you know how to avoid the mobs.”_

_“Right.”_

_Around other players, Scar always felt a nagging tingle in his mind as his vex nature tried to assert control. But here, alone with Cub, it was strangely absent. Scar hadn’t noticed it back in Kingdomcraft, when they were always with other players when together._

_But here under the pale moonlight, with no one else around, it felt peculiarly obvious._

_Scar had an inkling as to what it meant, and his senses had never failed him before - but if Cub wasn’t a player, he had to be another mob._

_Cub didn’t look like another mob. He looked like just another player._

_So did Scar._

_“I’m sorry if I offended you,” Cub suddenly said. “Back during the Kingdomcraft introduction, too. I wasn’t sure.”_

_“Wasn’t sure what?” Scar found himself asking. He was considering possibilities, yet hesitant to explore any further, and Cub felt-_

_“Are you a vex, Scar?” Cub asked._

_From the way he stared, eyes steeled and posture sure, it was clear Cub already knew the answer._

_Scar took a step back, despite himself. He forced his body not to tremble._

There’s more to it than this, _Scar reminded himself._ Xisuma never said you couldn’t use magic, ever. Utilize your strengths.

_Scar concentrated, pulling on his magic. It glided to the surface of his mind, and he guided it at Cub in his mental landscape, directing its flow into skimming the surface of Cub’s code. Slowly, a faint blue aura appeared around Cub in his eyes, highlighted with drifting wisps that curled and spun._

_“Are you?” he shot back. Cub narrowed his eyes, but didn’t respond._

_Despite the tiny victory, there were still so many questions racing through Scar’s mind, and undoubtedly Cub had more answers than he did._

_And they were answers Scar needed._

_But not tonight. He couldn’t deal with all this right now, the revelation, the pressure, the anxiety of what could go wrong - Scar felt he would break if he had to endure any more of it._

_He glanced around, doing a quick surroundings check. There were no players in the shopping district right now, no one else to see them besides a few stray skeletons and spiders._

_Scar took a deep breath, and abruptly teleported himself back to his starter base._

* * *

Cub couldn’t see it, how different he was from Scar, how relatively _strange_ he was in the eyes of vexes. 

But whatever it was, all of it came down to one thing.

Scar should never have accepted Wels’ proposal. 

It was time he came to terms with it - and removed himself from Hermitcraft before he did something truly unforgivable.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, this time so quietly he doubted any of them heard. Worlds were already racing through his mind - worlds without players, without other vexes, where he could live and build and discover in peace and without worry, like it used to be before everything went _wrong._

Jellie hissed disapprovingly, batting at Scar’s face. She’d made it clear from the beginning what she thought of his plan.

Scar stroked her fur in apology. None of this was fair to her. He would let Jellie live with Cub, but despite her qualms she still seemed insistent on staying with him.

“Scar,” Grian said, sounding pained and much more subdued. “Whatever you think - about not being able to control vex instincts. I promise we can find solutions, and the Hermits will all be willing to help. You don’t have to see this as the only option.”

“You don’t know that,” Scar said, shrinking back. “How many Hermits even know about us? Three, including Cub, maybe five if Joe or Etho have figured it out. Six as a maximum, if you count them and Hermits who aren’t even with us anymore. Players _hate_ vexes, Grian, and for good reason. I’ll be voted out of Hermitcraft the moment word gets out. And so will Cub, so don’t you _dare_ say anything.” 

Scar glanced back at the basin where the crystal once resided. The hole was even darker than before now, perpendicular to the ground. It looked like the endless void condensed itself into just a few blocks of space, an impossible, mind bending chasm between worlds.

The magic was almost done wiring.

“Absolutely _not!_ ”

Scar gasped softly in shock as Cub was suddenly gripping his hands and yanking him away. 

_I’m such an_ **_idiot!_ **

Cub must have followed his gaze and realized. After the time Scar spent stalling, he couldn’t just wait one more min-

“Xisuma, tear it down!” Cub yelled, the words grating painfully against Scar’s ears. 

“No, you _can’t,”_ Scar gasped, setting Jellie down and teleporting away. Alarm coursed through him when it worked, confirming that Xisuma, Cub and probably Grian could all do the same thing.

Xisuma, meanwhile, was now at the portal. Scar could make out the lines of white across his visor, codes that could come together to tear his portal like shears through sugarcane.

He narrowed focus onto Xisuma’s figure, locking into his sight - and with a cold whoosh, Scar was suddenly shoving him away. 

Xisuma made a surprised noise. The code lines jumped around, flickering wildly.

But a split second later, Scar was tumbling, Cub gripping tautly on his wings once again. A quick glimpse up made Scar realize he was now a few dozen blocks from the crystal and pinned against the observatory’s front wall, rough spruce bark scraping against his cheek.

Cub. 

Had _teleported_ him. 

An awful, fearful feeling condensed within his stomach. 

* * *

_“I - I don’t know about this,” Scar said anxiously, gripping the list of names. “This might be going too far.”_

_Cub frowned._

_“But - the others do it all the time,” he said. “And we always offer clean-up if they really want it.”_

_“It’s just - the vex cathedral,” Scar muttered, lowering himself onto a chair. “We’re making the other Hermits pay sacrifices if they don’t want to get -_ punished _. That’s - that’s just like - and Wels sounded so-”_

_He broke off, unable to make himself physically admit it._

_“Oh.” Cub was silent for a moment. “Well, if you feel we’re going too far, then we’ll stop. I’ll restore the vex cathedral to how it was before and tell everyone we’re stopping the Convex thing.”_

_“I-”_ Did _Scar want to stop? It_ was _fun, so much fun. And Cub was right, they weren’t hurting anyone. But every time Scar looked at the tribunes the Hermits brought to get on their “good side”, every time he glanced at the list they had of players to prank, his instincts got more and more insistent._

_He now often caught himself creating creatures that spat lava or plants that could pull players down and glitch them through void, only to hastily tear them down and spent the next few hours flying aimlessly on his elytra._

_Scar wasn’t sure how Cub did it, remaining so calm and controlled and rational, keeping boundary lines clear-cut and never showing any sign of trying to overstep them. As a vex he was everything Scar tried - and failed, to be._

_“Just - promise me something, Cub,” Scar whispered._

_“Yes?”_

_“As long as I’m with the Hermits - promise you will always put_ Hermitcraft’s _wellbeing first."_

_Cub closed his eyes, sitting down next to Scar._

_“I promise, Scar,” he said after a few moments. “I promise.”_

* * *

-and Grian was also standing tall next to Cub, levelling a diamond sword in Scar’s direction.

The only thing Scar cared to focus on, however, was Cub’s wide, plaintive eyes staring into his own.

 _"How could you,_ " choked Scar. “Don’t you remember?” 

_"Y_ ou’re part of Hermitcraft,” Cub said, not showing any signs of letting Scar free. “We would be so much less without you. And it means I have to look after _your_ wellbeing too. You’d be miserable alone again, don’t deny it.”

“It’s still my choice,” Scar gasped. He maintained the challenge, refusing to blink or turn away. “You can’t deny the risk, it’d be so much safer for everyone if I just left.”

Cub was hypersensitive to his movements now, Scar realized. He would interrupt a teleport before it even happened.

“I, for one,” Grian said determinedly. “Would feel much worse off without my neighbor. I’d much rather have you with us than not, Scar, regardless of the risks. And Xisuma clearly agrees.”

“Everyone else won’t,” Scar whispered. “And it’s not your choice anyway. I thought Hermitcraft allowed its members to leave whenever they wanted.” 

Cub’s hold loosened slightly. Grian blinked, clearly taken aback.

“You’re not supposed to hold former members against their will.”

A conflicted expression took over Grian. For a moment, his sword seemed to shake.

Meanwhile, Cub grimaced sorrowfully. But his hold didn’t weaken further, and his eyes remained resolute. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, tone wavering. Echoing in Scar’s mind, with the amount of times they’ve said those two words to each other - it felt dizzying. “I can’t let you go. I _refuse_ to believe we can’t make things work. I _refuse_ to believe you’re not a Hermit anymore, Scar. If that means _making_ you stay to see, then...”

Scar shook his head weakly. Why was Cub being like this? Cub didn’t - he was supposed to be the rational one. The one who assessed situations without bias or emotion, who should _know that was completely wrong-_

Scar couldn’t be a Hermit if he posed a threat to the world, to the players, to _himself._

_Scar couldn’t be a Hermit if he didn’t consider himself one._

The thought, fully worded and nestled unavoidably within his mind, made him flinch. Cub tightened his grip again.

“Scar, please.”

* * *

_“Are you a Hermit, Scar?”_

_That single question curled itself around Scar’s mind and refused to budge as he removed himself from the ice spikes, away from Cub and towards Etho’s farms. It screeched and clawed at Scar and he brought himself to welcome it, to see the opportunity it presented, anything to stop hurting Hermitcraft-_

_He couldn’t do this. Destroying farms was one thing. But eventually, if something didn’t stop, Scar knew. He would hurt the Hermits, irrevocably, irreversibly. Slide down the dangerous slope to hurting players, killing players, threatening true hardcore death and who knows what he’d be like by then-_

_He would find it fun. He would find it hilarious. Scar had seen it happen in so many vexes before, that shocking transition they go through, the unimaginable difference in how they acted based on who was nearby. Because the reactions - that fear and confusion and horrified shock - it_ fed _them. Vexes didn’t really need physical food - their true source of energy were those terrified emotions, the panic of players when they were faced with a vex in their natural habitat, in their own right mind._

Hermitcraft _. Scar clung to that. He clung to Cub’s question, to the feeling of home and comfort - and Scar realized he could not stay here, he couldn’t let himself slip here, he had to -_

_leave-_

* * *

“I know with absolute certainty the answer to the question,” Cub gritted, continuing. Something glistened in his eye. “And it’s _absolutely yes._ Because _we_ still consider you a Hermit, Scar.”

“It means we won’t give up on you,” Grian added. “So don’t give up on yourself.”

“I can’t,” Scar whispered. “I’m sorry, I can’t, being a vex-”

He gasped as he felt something within him begin to tear - his magic, Scar realized. As though invisible, icy claws were suddenly wrenching and ripping and shredding it apart like it was a piece of soft, silken fabric and- 

-he felt his body collapse, limp and unmoving. 

_The portal._

Xisuma must have finally finished his code, and set it to take effect. It tore through the magic that bound the portal together, attacking with savage ferocity and leaving its corpse behind to dissolve into wisps of nothingness. The sensation of his magic being torn apart like that was strange and cold, though not painful, but it came in unrelenting waves that bashed against his mind and forced Scar to grit his teeth against it.

He felt Cub grip his shoulders gently and lay him slumped against the wall, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

A few shudders later it passed, signalling Scar’s magic in the portal was now completely shredded beyond repair. He tried to relax, clutching a few blades of nearby grass like an anchor. 

_The portal was gone._

“Can’t-”

Fog crept in through the edges of his mind, his thoughts suddenly feeling overbearingly heavy. 

Cub, finally, lowered his head, blue eyes turning away from Scar’s sight.

Scar tried to speak-

And found himself limp again, darkness creeping in on the edge of his vision.

Something - _Cub’s_ _magic,_ Scar thought, vision darkening. He’d taken to opportunity to force unconsciousness, while Scar was too distracted to resist.

Scar had been bested at his own game. Of course - course he had, _of course,_ the other players were _Cub and Grian-_

He was _such_ a _fool._

“I’m so, _so sorry_.” Cub’s voice was faint in Scar’s ears, soft and sorrowful. “I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore, after all this. But HermitCraft can’t lose you, Scar.’’

Cub was crying, Scar realized. He didn’t know if that should make him feel better.

It only made him feel worse.

That was what his thoughts lingered on, when the darkness finally overtook him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: aka Cub and Scar have a very bad time, pt. 2.
> 
> Yeah the chapter length is a mess now apologies for the huge wait.
> 
> If you felt uneasy vibes about the way Grian and especially Cub were acting not letting Scar leave… yeah… any situation where someone is forcibly prevented from leaving someplace is… well, that’s not something you should do. Preventing Scar from leaving Hermitcraft was at best morally dubious. Very dubious.
> 
> And this isn’t supposed to be a plot twist. I definitely could have built it up better, I feel, but I followed Cub and Scar’s mindsets and feelings about the whole situation and it led me here. My intention with this this whole fic is keeping their emotions and actions realistic and play out the natural consequences of their actions and personalities, and just like in the real world you end up with people with the best of intentions doing very questionable things because of what they think is best or because they can’t handle the alternative (next chapter will delve into Cub’s mind more again, and resolve some more stuff between them… that’s all I’ll say).
> 
> Unless the person is literally walking to their deaths with suicidal ideation, forcing someone to stay somewhere is, you know, violating their basic human rights. Cub knows Scar well enough to know Scar would ultimately be much happier on Hermitcraft too, but does it really justify this? I would argue not really, because it sets a disturbing precedent of people using “but I know they’ll be happier here!” as an excuse. And it’s still a very questionable and not very good excuse even if it turns out to be true.
> 
> So yeah let me know if I’ve approached this topic well or framed it well so far or if I, uh, didn’t - and what’s the term for forcing someone to stay somewhere against their will? Or maybe I’m looking at this in the completely wrong way.  
> Also, the flashbacks. At least one or two could have been placed better in the last chapter (or other previous chapters) if I reworded some things, but it's too late now. Did it feel like a cheap cop-out from better build up in the previous chapters? I’ve never done anything like this before, and I don’t think I’ve ever read something like this before either, at least not for a situation like this, so stupidly I decided to do it without any prior experience on a fic I’m actually invested in trying to make good. I’m very, very anxious as to how you guys will receive it. There are parts I'm still not satisfied with, especially the beginning. Dragged a bit to long for my taste, but I wanted the scene there and couln't find a way to shorten them without making it read too choppily.
> 
> And this is in fact what I would consider the climax of the story. I think there will probably be 2 more chapters left, but I always get fic lengths and chapter lengths wrong, so we’ll see. Maybe three chapters...
> 
> As you dear readers can probably guess, this is a chapter I’m especially craving for feedback on, since it’s not just how good the writing is, it’s how good the _writing_ is that's at stake. It’s what I would consider the most important chapter of this fic, for better or worse. Do you feel like I took it in a bad direction? Or did I execute things well? Please, please let me know if I just made a huge embarrassment of myself.
> 
> And I keep writing pseudo fight-scenes where you’d expect them to fight in the conventional sense but it doesn't get very far. Most of the actual conflict happens in the dialogue, since smacking people around with magic isn’t really an effective communication tactic. 
> 
> By the way, if you can spare the moment to think on this for a second, do name the protagonist and antagonist of this fic also in the comments. I’m really interested in what people have.
> 
> As always, sorry for my stupid lack of an update schedule.


	7. Acknowledgement

They took him back to Larry.

Unconscious, Scar’s expression was still and strangely vacant. Cub felt another twisting vine dig into his heart, watching the rise and fall of Scar’s chest - mostly even, but every so often something seemed to seize, as though a peaceful dream had suddenly morphed into a horrifying nightmare.

Jellie followed them soundlessly, curling herself up at Cub’s feet and seemingly falling asleep immediately, tail curled loosely around one of his legs. Cub absentmindedly reached down to stroke her fur a few times before leaning back into the chair. 

“And we’re still not done,” Grian sighed. He’d taken residence on the floor, back supported by a wall of chests and shulker boxes. A few blocks away, Xisuma brushed aside a pile of books and tools and seated himself on one of the wooden counters.

“No,” Cub whispered. They’d won the battle, not the war. And at what cost?

The vex wings, still present and splayed across the width of Scar’s large bed, gave the reminder. Cub forced himself to not look away from the scratches and folds that littered across them. 

His fingers twitched again, and Cub dug them into his arms until pain sparked beneath them.

“If he keeps trying to leave… there’s really nothing we can do, in the end. We’ll have to let him go eventually,” he murmured. “There’s no way we can watch him all day and night, and even trying to do that is… counterproductive, to say the least.”

But the idea of Scar leaving Hermitcraft, leaving _him_ , was still a fear he couldn’t let go of. A shadow that stalked his thoughts and motivations, refusing to give ground no matter how hard he tried to reason.

“We have to convince him when he wakes up, then,” Grian said. “But he’s so...set. I don’t understand why he thinks that’s the only option.”

“He was doing what he thought would be in Hermitcraft’s best interests,” Cub said. “And from a… a logical perspective it does make sense - Scar’s had close calls before, ones I suspect I don’t know about either. Objectively, Hermitcraft’s safety is guaranteed if he, and I, leave. But emotions aren’t objective, are they?”

Cub knew, painfully well. Emotion clashed with logic so often in his mind - especially when Scar was part of the equation, it always seemed.

 _"Would_ the Hermits want him gone, if they knew?” Xisuma sighed. “Scar believes it… and sometimes, so do I.”

_Would the Hermits let us stay?_

_Players hate vexes, Grian. And for good reason._

“We should tell them, then,” Cub said finally, a heavy, sinking feeling settling itself over him. 

“Tell the other Hermits? About you and Scar?” A trace of disbelief laced Xisuma’s question.

Cub took a deep breath. 

“If Scar knows the other Hermits would rather have him around… then I think I could convince him to stay.”

 _And not have to force him to,_ went unsaid.

He could. He _had_ too, he didn’t have other options-

“But,” Grian began.

“ _I_ _f_ the other Hermits would rather have us around,” Cub said. “I know that.”

But Cub had been thinking. About their options, about Scar’s words, and he could see the points Scar had raised.

“The problem is,” he continued. “If it comes down to a vote, and the majority of Hermit, knowing the truth, don’t want us as Hermits… then do we really have a right to be here?”

There was a long, sickening silence.

“We - we just-” Xisuma shifted from his seat on the counter. “I thought you wanted you and Scar to stay. What else did we just do all that for?” But there was a considerate, regretful tone that Cub didn’t miss. It wasn’t surprising - after all, Xisuma was the admin. He had to put Hermitcraft first, and that meant he should have told everyone about their secret a long, long time ago.

“I think there’s a good chance we won’t be voted out,” Cub sighed. He hoped - and if after all this time with Hermitcraft, the Hermit still refused them - then perhaps vexes shouldn’t live like this with players after all. “I know we could be. But I wasn’t going to let Scar just _leave_ without knowing it for certain. And I think he would have left even if a vote came into his favor before, but once I talk to him some more I think-”

He broke off, turning his gaze back onto Scar.

“I’m still trying to figure this out too,” he whispered. “But every option I explore leads to the fact that we have to talk to the other Hermits about it _eventually_.” Eventually. Eventually, eventually, eventually, they’d have to - 

“I don’t know exactly why Scar’s so convinced everyone else won’t want us here. But if a majority of Hermits believe we should stay, then I think I could convince him too. But either way...”

Cub took another deep breath. He wasn’t sure why, but there was a pulling reluctance within him to admit it. Perhaps, because they’d avoided it for so long. When then danger wasn’t so real, so looming.

“Either way, it’s not really fair to the other Hermits, not knowing the danger they’re living with. They deserve a say in what risks Hermitcraft can take.”

 _I’m sorry, Scar._ This was something Cub always knew, as the _right_ thing to do - but he’d neglected it, for three entire seasons, afraid of what judgement the other Hermits might decide. Afraid of server division, of being treated differently even if they _were_ allowed to stay.

Was Cub really even being fair, now? If the motivation, after all this time, to finally reveal the secret - was to keep Scar from leaving?

He didn’t know. But at least now, if Scar had to leave, Cub would leave with him,

“Is - is that the precedent?” Grian asked. “That’s how it works? If we’re not sure if someone should be a Hermit, a majority vote decides?”

Cub blinked, coldness seeping into him in a dreadful, consuming way, like Grian’s words had flipped an icy switch in the conversation.

“I assumed - but that’s not really how Hermitcraft operates, is it?” he said, realization dawning. “We need unanimous agreement for new members to join - that’s how we make sure there aren’t conflicts - so if it was known that me and Scar were vexes at the start of Season 4, someone would have protested and we wouldn’t have been let in. So in theory, it just takes one vote for a ban for it to take effect.”

“That sounds wrong, though,” Grian murmured. “Because it’s going against the wishes of the vast majority - but it’s also the same way we allow new members in, so....”

“Well, the unanimous agreement for entry rule was why I didn’t tell anyone else about Cub and Scar when we were considering the Kingdomcraft merge,” Xisuma said. “Which, admittedly, was not very democratic of me.”

“Why _didn’t_ you tell anyone?” Cub asked, realizing he’d never brought it up before. At the beginning, he had been too afraid Xisuma would promptly change his mind upon reconsidering his choice, and in the seasons after it just felt like too strange a question to ask out of the blue.

“Well…” Xisuma appeared to shift uncomfortably in his seat. “I was curious. It just - wasn’t heard of, you know? And the other Kingdomcrafters said you’d been with them for a good while and were so talented at this and that - and I figured if you’d survived this long with complaints or suspicions, it was worth giving you a chance. And if you were greenlit, I couldn’t not invite Scar too.”

“The others would have asked why too, wouldn't they?” Grian asked. “You might have plausibly denied Scar under the pretense of how new he was, but If Iskall, Wels, and Ren were allowed in then there wasn’t any good reason to not let Cub in as well.”

“Right,” Xisuma exhaled. “I thought about telling them what you and Scar were… but that felt too cruel, even back then, for both you two and the other Kingdomcrafters. Besides, Wels had thought Scar was worth the risk, letting on Kingdomcraft - I decided that would have to be good enough for the time being.”

Cub nodded. He supposed, once again, that no matter what happened in the end, he and Scar were ultimately very, very lucky to have found Hermitcraft. 

“So, _i_ _s_ there a precedent for kicking members out?” Cub asked. “I’ve never heard it brought up either.” 

_It’s just a question. You have nothing to be nervous about._

“There… we _have_ discussed it as a group before,” Xisuma said, looking troubled. “When I became the official head admin back during mid-Season 2, we had a meeting to set down parameters for admitting members. Needless to say, it was a lot more… disorganized, back then. This meeting was when we established the ‘unanimous agreement’ rule, so everyone would actually know who was joining. And the idea behind that rule was specifically so we wouldn’t have to deal with calls for bans. There was a bit of discussion about theoretical situations, however.”

“And?” Cub asked. He glanced at Jellie, still curled up beneath him.

“We agreed just one call for a ban wouldn’t be enough. And we _did_ agree that a majority vote should be needed to kick someone out - the reasoning was that it would minimize tension between the two groups. If only two or three people wanted someone gone and that was enough, the rest who didn’t want that player gone would feel it was unfair. Since we were talking about existing members the other Hermits would already know relatively well, instead of a potential new member, we agreed the requirement for kicking someone off needed to be higher. Because theoretically, the Hermits who would want that hypothetical person to stay would be much more attached to them than someone who they wanted to join. Which, now that I think about it, is a rather emotion-based argument. But like I said, the purpose was to minimize any feelings of ‘unfairness.’”

“So what you’re basically saying is that if a majority of Hermits want Cub and Scar to stay, they are allowed to stay, even if it was won by just one vote,” Grian said.

“Theoretically, yes,” Xisuma said. “Though most of the Hermits here were never at that meeting, so I feel a little hesitant.”

“We’ll have to see how strongly the other Hermits feel about the issue, then,” said Grian. “The next question is, do Cub or Scar get a vote?”

“I don’t think that really matters,” Cub said. Xisuma and Grian turned to stare at him.

“Why?” Xisuma asked.

“Well, I’d vote to stay, and Scar would vote we should leave,” Cub explained, glancing at Scar. “It cancels out, doesn’t it? And Scar suddenly deciding he’s not a Hermit anymore isn’t a very convincing argument for why only I should get a vote.”

“It’s not _convincing_ , but it _is_ kind of depressing,” Grian muttered. 

“So you’re in agreement? Finally tell the other Hermits?” Xisuma asked, glancing at Cub. Cub turned his head to Scar’s sleeping form. His dreams didn’t seem to be getting any more peaceful, Cub noted with a restless feeling, watching an exposed hand suddenly crumple together in a terrified manner.

* * *

_He went to Scar’s starter base tent the next night, finding him curled up on his bed and absentmindedly stroking a purring tabby cat. The moment Cub stepped inside, Scar turned to meet Cub’s eyes._

_“...what do you want?” he sighed after a minute of mutual staring._

_An awkward silence later, Cub replied._

_“I - I’m sorry. Again. About what happened last night,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to - make you upset."_

_“It’s fine,” Scar responded, slowly pushing himself up._

_Cut bit his lip, wondering if this was a good idea. His encounters with other vexes have been… rather limited, to say the least._

_“I just - I was so shocked, when Wels added you to Kingdomcraft,” Cub mumbled. “And I wasn’t sure what to say. Especially when Xisuma agreed to let both of us into Hermitcraft too.”_

_“Unlike me, you seem to know your way around players just fine,” Scar said, eyeing Cub._

_“Unfortunately,” Cub murmured. Something cold shivered through him. “I wish I_ didn’t _know so much about players.”_

Don’t talk, don’t think, don’t-

_“Cub?” Scar asked. “Cub, are you alright?”_

_“Nevermind,” Cub suddenly said, hurriedly twisting a neutral expression back on. It wouldn’t do to get off track, with Scar being such an unknown variable. “Anyway, Wels was the one who approached you, so would you mind telling me something about that?”_

_Cub, like the others, had believed at first that Scar was just shy from isolation, though he wondered why Scar would agree to join Kingdomcraft if that was the case._

_But as more and more evidence started to add up…_

_Well, it wasn’t a terribly hard suspicion to confirm._

_“He said he wanted to see if a vex could live peacefully with players,” Scar mumbled, drawing his knees up. He leaned against a white, woolen pillow. “It was just supposed to be a trial test on Kingdomcraft, but then - you know, we got the offer to merge with Hermitcraft and Xisuma said he didn’t mind as long as no rules were broken.”_

_Cub nodded. Wels... had a sort of guilty fascination with vexes that Cub suspected wasn’t born of mere curiosity. But it wasn’t his place to pry into Wels’ past, and up until the weeks before Scar joined, he had hidden it relatively well. Cub almost had a heart attack when Wels had begun questioning him on the topic, terrified their former admin might have suspected something._

_Looking back now, Cub realized Wels gathering information was leading up to… Scar._

_“But Wels never said anything about you,” Scar frowned._

_“Wels doesn’t know about me,” Cub responded. “I arrived in the Kingdomcraft world before him. It was originally just the world of one of the former Kingdomcrafters - one that left before you came. Without any firewalls or protections, I just joined the world looking for a place to stay and made my presence hidden. It was only after more players started arriving I introduced myself to the admin player. He agreed to give me a name tag and communicator, and pass me off as just another addition. That player left a while later and Wels inherited admin duty, but he never looked into any of our codes unless he absolutely had to, so I don’t think he ever realized something was off about mine.”_

_“But - why-” Cub supposed, to Scar, the idea of so many admins allowing vexes on their worlds, masquerading them as players, would seem unfathomable. On some level it was to Cub too, but for entirely different reasons._

_“Very good luck with admins, for one,” Cub said quietly. “But I also think the majority of both sides have gotten so caught up in this - this narrative, of ‘us versus them’ that they don’t comprehend the minority willing to take risks, whether out of kindness or just sheer curiosity. I presented myself as sane and controlled, and promised I was willing to conform to player norms. That was enough for the admin to give me a chance, albeit one under threat of banning should I ever try something.”_

_“Do you think - do you think the Hermits would…” Scar couldn’t bring himself to finish, but Cub got the message._

_“I’m not willing to risk it,” Cub said flatly. “Some, probably, some, probably not. I rather like Hermitcraft so far, and I’m not so eager to see how far Xisuma’s favor reaches just yet.” After all, he only had to convince one player. Convincing 20 players was something else entirely._

_“Right,” Scar mumbled. “I don’t really know anyone else yet.”_

_Cub sighed._

_But he reached out a hand and gave Scar a small smile, trying, for the first time in his life, to be reassuring._

_“I don’t want to make anything difficult, and quite honestly I’m still not used to a lot of things either,” Cub said. “But we’ll work through it, alright?”_

_Scar looked up, vibrant green eyes flashing in the torchlight._

_“Alright,” he whispered, nodding. “I’ll do my best.”_

* * *

“I have to ask Scar first,” Cub said. “It’s his decision too, and I don’t want to say anything before he’s at least told about this and given his input.”

Especially not after he had practically forced Scar to stay against his will.

“Well,” Xisuma said. “I’ll fully admit, hiding what you and Scar were was not… befitting of an admin, per se. Though I can't necessarily say I regret it. In any case, though I won’t force you, I agree the other Hermits should be told. Regardless of whatever I may feel personally, like you said, Cub, it’s not fair to the others.”

Cub looked down, nodding. And he couldn’t imagine why Scar would resist the decision, if he wanted so much to leave over his dangerous nature. At the very least, why wouldn’t he at least wait to learn what the others thought?

They had both decided to join Hermitcraft, despite being vexes.

It was time they both faced the consequences of that decision. 

Cub was scared, yes.

But it was what could come after those consequences that scared him even more.

If the Hermits agreed to let them stay, would Scar still try to leave? If that was the case, they were truly at a loss. Keeping him trapped in Hermitcraft, smashing any hope of escape at every turn - that was beyond cruel. Especially with the methods they would have to employ, it was a possibility none of them would consider.

Cub stopped him once, for the possibility of reconsideration. It felt horrible - and terrifying. Scar’s life at his fingertips, giving him the ability to decide Scar’s future; having so much power over Scar chilled him to the bone.

There was absolutely no way Cub could bring himself to do it again.

But what if the Hermits voted them out? Scar would leave - and Cub would follow. He didn’t know any other vexes, any other players that might welcome him, anywhere he might stay beyond a select few uninhabited worlds. 

He was nothing without Scar or Hermitcraft, Cub knew. He had no safety net to fall on - or rather, Scar and Hermitcraft _were_ his safety nets, and he was already clinging to them like a lifeline. For him, a large part had always been about staying with Scar. 

It was such a selfish motivation, one that made his stomach curl with disdain and guilt - but besides Hermitcraft, besides Scar’s happiness - Cub was also so, so incredibly afraid of _losing him_. It went beyond the fact that Scar was the only vex he really knew - it came down to _everything else_ about him, the way Cub could always feel safe and understood and comforted whenever Scar was nearby.

Would Scar let Cub go with him? Go wherever Scar did, wherever Scar wanted? 

After everything that had happened, Cub had no idea. But he did know that a world without Scar was absolutely terrifying. 

A prospect he couldn’t bring himself to face, and thus couldn’t bring himself to plan for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More moral ambiguity! Hopefully. This time around a lot of smaller questions.
> 
> I don’t really care for specific playlists in stories, but just for fun I’ll share what I listened to while working on chapter 6, 7, and 8.
> 
> Chapter six was Sealed Vessel from the game Hollow Knight, with a healthy sprinkling of the Broken Vessel boss theme too. I sort of wrote chapters 7 and 8 together, like I said, and what I listened to for this was “It’s raining somewhere else” from Undertale. Don’t take this as any serious “symbolism” or as having any deeper meaning, I was just grabbing the first pieces I remember that sets an approximately accurate mood, and that I love enough to be able to stand listening to for hours on end.
> 
> I can’t write while listening to songs that have lyrics in them. It actively distracts me from my writing and thinking, no matter how much I love them. This rules out pretty much all of elybeatmaker’s remixes, unfortunately.
> 
> Also, the revelation Cub gave in a recent episode that off camera he actually puts signs and other random stuff everywhere just to mess with the Hermits, to the degree that even he couldn’t remember whether something was done by him or not, just fits so well into this AU lol. 
> 
> Remember when I said we were getting close to the ending last chapter? Turns out we’re… more than halfway there, but exactly “close”. After much, much deliberation and changing my mind multiple times, I’ve decided to scrape the idea of a separate “part” and just have everything about this fic be condensed here. For those of you who’ve checked my profile at certain times, you’ll know I was going to make a separate fic as a sort of “part-2” to this, since I thought the resolution to Cub and Scar’s conflict with each other and their emotions should spell the end of this fic. When reworking the plot a bit, I decided it actually made more sense to expand it out longer to the actual ending and resolve it there. I’ll explain more in the author’s notes when we get to those chapters, to avoid spoilers here.
> 
> As always, let me know what you think in the comments! Especially about the way I wrote Cub’s thoughts, which I’m still not entirely satisfied with, though I suspect some factors outside my control are to blame for a bit of it. Just a bit, thought. This and chapter 8 were (and are) just as hard to write as chapter 6, for both similar and different reasons. 
> 
> Next chapter will hopefully be out within a week, preferably within 3 days, after I’ve edited it extensively. I wanted to make sure both were at least written and plotted out, since they tied so closely to each other, but for me it takes nearly just as long to go from rough draft to finished product as it does from nothing to rough draft.


	8. Clause

_“So, what do you think?” the armored player - Wels - asked._

_Scar watched his past self trail a reluctant, but considering finger across the weathered spruce table. He glanced around the room, eyes lingering on every piece of furniture and decoration._

“Don’t accept!” _Scar, as the observer, wanted to shout._ “Turn him down! Stay here!” _But the words would fall on deaf ears, as though the vibrations never came out - after all, he had no physical presence, and no means to change the past._

_“I don’t know,” past Scar admitted. “Sorry, that’s - you probably don’t want to hear that. I just don’t know...” he trailed off, expression clearly uncomfortable._

_“It’s alright,” Wels said, a note of surprise in his voice. Past Scar seemed to shrink into himself at the words, but watching now, Scar realized Wels was also..._ impressed _._

_“You said... the other players wouldn’t know?” past Scar asked._

Shut him out. Tell him no - tell him to leave and never bother you again. _But hoping for change was a fruitless endeavor. Scar knew it all too well._

_And so he could only watch, with maddening frustration, as Wels answered._

_“Yes, it’ll just be between you and me. I think this could work, with cooperation."_

_Scar closed his eyes, trying to shut out the scene before him instead._

_“Oh, isn’t this just_ such _a hilarious sight,” a voice chuckled behind him._

_Scar whirled around - or tried too, but as an intangible spectator resistance seemed to coat his movements like a creeping wall of honey. It felt as though whole updates had passed before Scar finally managed to twist his view around._

_It was a vex - or at least, it had to be a vex. Scar wasn’t sure what else to describe the... image... as. It hovered high above the floor as well, at Scar’s eye level, appearing as a mass of cloudy mist - save for a pair of bright blue eyes glowing like a lantern in the deepest ocean abyss._

_His voice had a chilling yet familiar quality, like something had taken Scar’s own, shredded it into tiny fragments of code, and meticulously pieced back together in all the wrong ways._

_“I don’t remember you,” Scar said, trying not to remember. “You’re just another passing face I’ve seen, before I isolated myself. I don’t owe you any conversation.”_

_“Really,” the vex said slowly, scorn clear from beginning to end. Scar ignored it._

_“_ Your _mind conjured me,” the vex said, pressing on. “Whatever you see, whatever you hear - it’s all a testament to_ your _inner thoughts.”_

_Scar gritted his teeth, continuing to not answer._

_“Which means you_ absolutely _know me. I’m you,” the vex continued, narrowing luminescent eyes. “Perhaps you should stop lying to yourself once in a while,_ BadTimes.”

_Though there should be nothing corporeal about his body, something sharp and paralyzingly icy seemed to plunge through Scar’s throat._

No, he refused, no nonono-

_“That’s not my name,” Scar choked. He reached out with his mind, searching for escape with a panicked desperation. It was a dream, he could escape dreams, he had to wake up before it was too late-_

_But an invisible force bound him tightly in place, implacable against his efforts, making a powerless target for the vex’s words to stab like trident points._

_“Why yes, you_ are _dreaming,_ _BadTimes.” And though there was no mouth, Scar could hear the smile that would have otherwise been present. The lantern-like eyes bored a hole straight and true into Scar’s deepest, darkest secrets._

_“And isn’t it said, that only a liar’s dreams will tell the truth?”_

_“Go away,” Scar hissed, and felt something cold trail down his face like a frozen finger._

_“Why are you crying?” the vex laughed. “Aren’t you proud? You’ve just taken the first steps into becoming a_ proper _vex again, at the expense of the Hermits-”_

 _Scar latched onto the words,_ proper vex _, and felt himself tremble._

_“So what?” he bited. “All the more reason for me to... to...”_

_Scar couldn’t bring himself to finish, but as the words were said, the scene around them - Wels, the quaint, rustic house, his past self - all began to crack. They fell down into the abyss in a million tiny pieces, and a new setting began to shape itself into existence._

_The interior of a woodland mansion warped into view, the walls making up a grand entrance room - and this one was clearly mastered by a vex. Multiple vexes, in fact, and something heavy settled in Scar’s chest._

_A player was standing on an immaculate blue and golden-trimmed carpet. She supported her weight on an enchanted diamond sword, limp clearly visible, a silver cloak pulled up around her. Vexes - both true vexes, and their tiny minion counterparts - were laughing and hovering high in the air above. No one seemed to notice Scar - or the vex beside him._

_Scar remembered, saw it coming, but it still came as a stab of pain and regret when he saw his former self fly down to seat himself atop an obsidian throne, studded with diamonds and twisted with iron bars. He waved a lazy hand through the air - and the laughter abruptly ceased._

_“Give him back,” the player said, menace glinting in her eyes. “Give him back. I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.”_

_Scar tried to shut it out - but the player’s furious words were crystal clear in his mind, lingering like dust in stale, cornered air._

_“You missed a part,” his own voice echoed back at the player. Scar bit his lip at the tone, carefully precise and leeringly articulate, shaped to stab sharper than any enchanted weapon._

_The player’s name was Sparrow, Scar recalled, surprised he could still remember it so clearly. This world’s admin had disabled name tags, after all._

_Another vex swooped down to this past Scar, landing down beside the throne._

_“Should I take this one to the pit as well, BadTimes?” she asked with that signature, mocking smile, magic already swirling in her eyes._

_Though he knew it was coming, a jagged hole still seemed to rip itself out of Scar’s soul, hearing the name spoken so clearly, so casually, so confidently as Scar’s identity. He shuddered again, feeling ice travel through his veins, colder than night time in a tundra blizzard._

_“Trying to run from your problems again, aren’t you?” the initial vex came closer, floating eyes taunting. “How many times will you flee, before you finally slip and fall and look up to find a dead end you can’t fly over?”_

_“It’s - I - I’m not running away,” Scar said, regaining his bearing._ Stay calm. Stay controlled.

_“I’d say to keep telling yourself that, but that’s not the point,” the vex responded, chuckling._

_“Of course it’s not,” Scar snapped in response. “Because there is no point here.”_

_As he responded, the scene below continued to play out._

_“Not just yet. I think we can still... reach an agreement,” former Scar - no,_ BadTimes _, said._

But it’s just a name, _Scar thought, trying to clear the doubt that was entangling itself inside him._ You can change names, it doesn’t really matter, stop getting so worked up over it-

_“Oh? I suppose that’s why you changed it?” The vex beside him laughed. “How many mental gymnastics can you pull, BadTimes, before you finally snap?”_

_Scar ignored him, once again. But there was only so much he could_ not _focus on._

_“The admin of this world has been a particular thorn in our side since she ascended to the position,” BadTimes said. He pulled out a pickaxe, the words “Carpe Juris” inscribed clearly across the weathered diamond surface, and twirled it in lazy circles in front of him._

_Sparrow’s eyes hardened at the sight, but she didn’t respond. Her hands had an almost imperceptible shake to them, packed with so much fury that Scar wondered for the second time in his life how she had managed to keep her movements under such otherwise tight control._

_“You didn’t kill who we told you to, breaking the original contract - don’t think I didn’t notice the last minute portal activation.” BadTimes laughed. “We notice_ everything _, player. But perhaps we could come to another agreement... one I’ll make sure you don’t try to cheat.”_

_“You’re going too easy on them,” another vex hissed. “The rules were made clear, and she had all the resources needed to complete the task - bit unfair for us to give a second chance, BadTimes. Just kill them both already.”_

_“Havoc, maybe you didn’t get the memo last time.” BadTimes snapped a finger - and suddenly, Havoc was pinned against the floor, body frozen at the foot of the throne._

_Scar swallowed, but didn’t try to close his eyes again._

_“I’ll take care of_ you _later,” BadTimes hissed at the other vex before straightening up._

 _“Right... where were we?” he turned back to Sparrow. “I would_ love _to see said admin have an absolute meltdown... if not from losing someone close to her, then some_ thing _. So, bring us this world’s dragon egg, and you can have your friend back.”_

_Sparrow’s eyes widened - she jerked back and pulled her sword with her, shaking._

_“But - but-”_

_“Of course, the admin values nothing more, other than her life,” BadTimes chuckled, leaning forward. “Of course, every protection command she can use to hide it, she does use. That’s why we want it.” Something dark and icy shined through the glowing blue eyes, a gleam Scar was all too familiar with._

_“Whatever happens to you or Legal afterwards... if you fulfill this contract, that's none of our concern. But as insurance...” the diamond pick came to a stop._

_“Legal doesn’t have any armor right now. He’s in hardcore mode. Once you leave, I’ll up his hunger to full. And then, every twelve hours you don’t come back with the dragon egg, he’ll be slashed once with this pickaxe. It’ll take a good few days for him to die, but exactly how long... well, how much are you willing to risk?”_

_It seemed so, so far removed from who_ Scar _was, who the other Hermits saw him as. Scar, who tried to be a good friend, who tried to contribute any way he could, who tried to give everyone around him a good time - but Scar wasn’t really any of these things, was he? He was always burrowing under layers of lies and deception, was still the same in so many ways, and in the end there really was no difference between who Scar was and who BadTimes was - they were just names, after all._

_Perhaps, Scar was now even worse, for all the lies he’s spun in the 4 seasons he’d been on Hermitcraft._

Why, Cub? _Scar thought, guilt curling through every fiber of his being._ Why didn’t you let me go? Why can’t any of you see how dangerous things will become?

_“Maybe you should ask,” the vex beside him said airily. “But running from serious topics is such a strong suit of yours, they might kneel over from shock before you even reach the second sentence.”_

_Scar didn’t respond._

_Sparrow narrowed her eyes, accepted the new terms, and marched proudly and determinedly out of the mansion. She was one of the most determined players he’d ever encountered, Scar remembered. And someone like her would be absolutely justified to vote a vex like Scar, like BadTimes, out of a world._

_BadTimes’ lingering gaze was thoughtful and gleaming as he turned to Havoc._

_“It doesn’t matter,” Scar said, and somehow he found himself gaining strength, gaining resolve. “I need to leave Hermitcraft, anyway. It’s the safest choice by far. What does it matter, discussing it further? Cub already knows why.”_

_“And yet, he doesn’t want you to leave,” the vex said. The laughing ring was gone, tone replaced by mockery and disgust. Scar shifted focus to his former self again._

_“This obsession you have with killing every player we obtain is getting tiring, Havoc,” BadTimes hissed. His grin quickly morphed into a scowl as he stepped off the throne, and the other vexes followed suit with expressions ranging from annoyed to disdainful._

_“The players, they-”_

_“Yes, what happened with your previous mansion was... tragic,” BadTimes said. “But I’m responsible for_ this _mansion, for satisfying every vex here to the best of my ability, and if you insist on ripping through all the long-term plans I’ve laid because you can’t understand the concept of thinking ahead, I will not hesitate to banish you.”_

 _“_ You’ve _lost vexes to players too,” Havoc hissed. “You should understand; I‘m trying to help us get even.”_

_“It’s not about having the same amount of kills as the players, Havoc,” BadTimes sighed, shaking his head. “Otherwise, I suspect we would be leading the score. It’s about being vexes - and killing for the sake of it defeats the entire point. I know you’re angry and vengeful, but you agreed to follow the lead vex’s orders when you joined this mansion. This is your last warning.”_

_Havoc gritted his teeth, eyes flashing. But he responded with a smooth nod, and slowly the magic binding him began to unwound._

_As he did so, everything darkened again. Like before, the scene fell away into a bottomless abyss. With great, trembling difficulty, Scar closed his eyes._

_“Oh, not so quick,” the original vex said. “Your conscience isn’t quite giving up yet.”_

_“Really,” Scar slowly said. “I have a conscience? Highly doubtful.”_

_“Oh dear, another attempt at running away,” the vex snarled in a sudden twist, eyes and misty body flashing closer. “But_ this _part of you isn’t giving up quite just yet.”_

_Gray formed around them - but it was gray in all tints and shades, and a multitude of textures. Pebbly cobble, smooth, furnaced stone, and rough acacia bark all swirled into view, forming an enormous underground cavern well-lit by only torches and lamps. The circular shape of the area was bordered by layers of cliffs high and low and everything in between, an array of unique and colorful buildings scattered around the open or tucked into fitted niches, like sweet berries on fresh taiga snow._

_The cliffs gave way to a crystal clear lake as it approached the middle, dotted with islands of various shapes and sizes. At the very center, the trunk of an enormous petrified tree, cold and dead as stone, reached through the ceiling and into the sky above, a final standing memory against a world that had corrupted and burned its life away._

_This time, past him was looping in circles around the enormous dead trunk. He finally settled in a hollow around the midpoint, which Scar recognized was sorely lacking detail._

_“But...why the Season 5 shopping district?” Scar whispered. “Why does a part of me want to see this?”_

_“Scar!”_

_Xisuma flew by in a flash, and Scar found himself floating closer to see the admin land next to past Scar in a flurry of rockets._

_“Oh, hello,” past Scar responded, brushing aside a wisp of blown hair. “I just need a few more weeks - I promise I’ll get the district done soon. Is there an area you need me to focus on?”_

_“Quite the opposite, actually,” Xisuma said. “We want you to come join a sleepover at Tango’s place. All the other Hermits will be there.”_

_“But... there’s still so much detailing work...” past Scar gestured vaguely at the area around them, shaped by only acacia logs. “And the aboveground-”_

_“It can all wait, Scar,” Xisuma said gently. “You’ve been working at the communal area non-stop for the entire past month, and many hours a day since the season started. I know vex magic can fuel you, but it’s just not good for your mental health to forgo sleep for_ months _on end.”_

_“But I - I promised I would construct the communal area,” past Scar mumbled. “I haven’t let anyone else do the detailing - that means I’m responsible for making sure it’s all perfect. It’ll be my fault if anything’s wrong.” There was noticeable distress in the way he wrung his hands, backing deeper into the hollow._

_Xisuma reached out to grip past Scar, pulling him out of the darkness._

_“You’re allowed to take breaks, Scar,” he said. “You work harder than the rest of us combined, and we all know it. No one will fault you for giving your own health some priority.”_

_“Just - can’t it wait, until I’m finished?” Scar asked in a small voice, glancing around._

_“In this state, you’ll keep convincing yourself something needs to be changed and never consider it complete,” Xisuma sighed. “Listen, I know you’re scared you aren’t contributing enough to Hermitcraft. But just because you’re a vex, doesn’t mean you have to work yourself to the ground to prove your worth, Scar.”_

_Both past and present Scar flinched harshly at the words - but it felt as though they cut so much more deeply, the second time Scar was hearing them. The vex beside him chuckled darkly._

_“I - I’m not trying to prove something. The others don’t even know,” past Scar said. “I just... I have a responsibility.”_

_“Everyone else would much rather have you in the sleepover,” Xisuma said, tugging again. “You can continue that responsibility tomorrow, after you’ve had some rest.”_

_“Please, Scar,” Xisuma added after the hesitation didn’t go away. “Trust me. The other Hermits all really want you there. If nothing else, do it for them, alright?”_

_Past Scar finally nodded reluctantly, but he still didn’t look convinced. He_ wasn’t _convinced. Scar still wasn’t - it still made no sense to him, why the Hermits wouldn’t have wanted the shopping district done as soon as possible. Sleepovers could have been arranged after its completion, after all._

_But nonetheless, Xisuma’s words were echoing in his ears again - and Scar wanted them out._

_“Of course you do, coward,” the vex said scornfully. “Otherwise, you might have to accept that the Hermits actually care about you as a person more than your usefulness. My, such a_ tragedy _that would be.”_

_“But it - I’m not-” Scar said._

_“You just don’t want to deal with all the messy complications about_ truths _and_ being a good friend _, not when you can just fake your way through everything, pretending it's all fine,” the vex attacked. “Isn’t that right,_ BadTimes _? You really haven’t changed at all, have you?”_

_“No, I haven’t,” Scar turned and snarled in response, realizing that somehow, there was only darkness around him. “So? All the more reason for the others to let me go.”_

_“And unravel all the loose threads down to the tiniest pixel, I suppose,” the vex said. “Leave all of your supposed ‘friends’ hanging, or make Cub explain it all-”_

_“He won’t,” Scar said, feeling himself begin to tremble. Not that, it couldn't be - “It’s - they don’t need to know-”_

_“‘They don’t need to know,’” the vex mimed in a perfect representation of BadTimes’ emotionless tone. “How many times have you said that to players, back when you actually acknowledged who you were?”_

_“No, I - I don’t - stop it-” it wasn’t that Scar_ couldn’t _say anything, it was that Scar had nothing to say, no idea what to think, how to get out of the situation, completely trapped within the confines of his own personal failings - and that was somehow so much worse._

 _“So you deceived everyone for 4 seasons, and only when it became too difficult for_ you _to handle, did you try to leave without facing any consequences whatsoever?”_

“Shut up,” _Scar whispered, trying to back away. But there was no support, no place to hide, the dream a vast expanse of nothingness that allowed attack from any direction. Dimly, Scar registered his breathing as wildly erratic, like walls of stone were pushing in on him from every side, slowly drowning him in inescapable pressure, his lungs feeling like they would fold in and collapse under the weight of it all-_

_“No wonder Cub, Xisuma, and Grian wanted you to stay so badly.” the vex - it wasn’t even a vex now, the eyes were gone, the mist was gone, it was just a voice laughing and mocking and it was everywhere at once, echoing in his head, echoing in the darkness, omnipresent as the force of the nightmare._

**“Be quiet,”** _Scar gasped desperately again, instincts completely frozen, nothing he could do but-_

 **_“What will you do, BadTimes? What_ ** **can** **_you do?”_ **

_He wanted to escape, he wanted to forget, he wanted to not listen anymore-_

**_“What can you do, but either sit passively and watch your world crumble, or take the initiative and crumble it yourself?”_ **

_He couldn’t bear to listen, even now, with every path before him closed and shuttered, like the coward he was, but Scar didn’t care-_

**_“They want to see you face justice, and you can’t even give that to Hermitcraft, despite all your pretenses about all you’ve sacrificed-”_ **

_Scar was trying and bashing and clawing at the fabric of the nightmare itself and he was sure he’d never been so desperate, but he wanted to leave and get out and not hear it anymore even if he was a deceitful, lying, horrible vex, but no matter how hard he tried he sti l l c o u l d n ‘ t g e t o u t -_

**“CUB!”** _Scar screamed, with pure, frenzied panic - but Scar didn’t care, this was his only option, Cub had always been there, saving him, comforting him, this can’t be the exception, it_ ** _can’t be-_**

 **“CUB, WAKE ME** **UP̷!̵̓"̷͂**

_Cub’s magic held him in place, Cub’s magic could pull him out-_

**_“Oh? Getting_ ** **that** **_desperate? Begging for someone you don’t even consider a friend to help you escape justice?”_ **

**"̷͆H̶́EL̸P ̴M̶E̵!"̶̾** _Scar shrieked in response, hoping, for anything-_

**_“What a truly pathetic-”_ **

**"̸͑G̸E̵T ̴M̴E̸ ̶O̶U̶T̴,̴ ̷P̵L̸E̸A̷S̶͗E̵,"̶** _Scar screamed rawly again, and this time, something tugged on the barrier that confined him in this prison. Scar bashed all his desperation against it as hard as he could, projecting all of his fear and panic in a tidal wave that slammed and slammed-_

 **_“Trying to hide, BadTimes? You can’t hide from your own dreams, own mind, own_ ** **nature** ** _, you silly, stupid, fool.”_ **

**"̵͌CUB̵,̵ ̶T̵A̶KE̸ ̷M̴E ̸O̴U̵T̵, ̵S̸AV̴E̶ ̷̈M̷E-̸͑"̶**

_And suddenly, everything went dark again._

* * *

”SCAR!” 

Warm, familiar fingers shook him with a fearful tightness, wound tightly around Scar’s own.

Scar’s eyes shot open as he scrambled up, finding himself still shaking erratically. Cub was next to him, blue eyes dimming as the magic subsided, the panic in them now clearer than crystals.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? I’m so sorry-” Cub froze as Scar reached out to grip his shoulder.

“I - I’m fine,” he forced out, throat rough and dry, every syllable scraping. Scar didn’t feel fine, but he had to be, it was just a dream and he worried Cub _again-_

“You don’t seem fine,” Cub said doubtfully, worriedly. “But I - what was the nightmare? I swear, I didn’t direct my magic like that-”

“I know,” Scar whispered, taking more deep, shuddering breaths, pulling Cub closer. “But I-”

There was no way he could tell Cub. And Scar felt the walls begin to press in again, the words of that nightmare still ringing, echoing, refusing to give up a single pixel of space in his mind and Scar felt, suddenly, as though he didn’t really escape-

_Keep it together. Keep it calm._

“Cub, what...”

Scar couldn’t find the words to explain - but like always, Cub knew what he meant.

“We were talking, me and... Xisuma and Grian.”

Scar glanced away, and for the first time registered Xisuma and Grian both staring at him from across the room with confusion and concern.

“Can we...” Cub began. “Can I talk to Scar alone, for a while? If that’s alright with you,” Cub added, turning back to Scar.

“Yes,” Scar said, feeling a twinge of worry. 

“R-right,” Grian said slowly. He stood up and nudged Xisuma towards the exit. 

Cub fidgeted as the door on Larry closed. 

“You still want to leave.”

Scar nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“And - we can’t keep you here forever. But I - I brought up this possibility and Xisuma agreed it was a good idea-”

Cub shifted back a bit, as though afraid of what Scar’s response would be. He _was_ afraid, Scar recognized.

“Could you at least consider what the other Hermits would have to say about what we are?”

Scar jolted back, feeling his elbow accidentally smashed against the bedpost. His breathing seemed to speed up again - but no, he couldn’t, Cub was watching, he had to remain calm this time- 

“Scar! Whatever it was, I - I’m sorry, but...” Cub trailed off, as Scar shook his lowered head and clutched at the blankets with all his might.

“I’m sorry too, but I - I...” Scar couldn’t form words again. He couldn’t form words, couldn’t respond, could only tremble incoherently as Cub watched with a helpless expression beside him, murmuring apologies but afraid to move closer.

The walls were closing in again, but this time the shadows moved with them, twisting and grasping and overwhelming his entire body in a sea of cold, crushing darkness, and Scar had never felt so trapped in his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! AND NOW THE REAL BATTLE BEGINS.
> 
> I am actually not joking. Chapter 9 will probably take... a while? Definitely even more time than this chapter, I imagine. Probably nearing or overtaking chapter 6 in terms of how long it’ll take. I was woefully underprepared for how much editing and consideration and plotting this part of the fic will need. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is... well, you tell me in the comments. Chapter I’m uncertain about, once again! I’ve definitely put more thought and analysis into this chapter than any other, though, and hopefully all the little details and “between the lines” stuff isn’t executed terribly or whatever.
> 
> I know I promised last time that an update would come within a week - very sorry I wasn’t able to uphold that. This chapter turned out much harder to wrangle than I anticipated, and then I burned my right hand and couldn’t type for a day, and the past few days were also just busier than usual. 
> 
> More random stuff -
> 
> So... you guys know how lions live in groups and a group of lions is called a pride, and a group of wolves is called a pack? Well, in this universe, a group of vexes is called a mansion! A mansion of vexes! Hahaha...
> 
> Okay... add that to one of the tiny things that came from this fic that I really have no right to be so proud of (the other one being the brick joke about Larry’s door).
> 
> Weirdly, despite being American, whenever I move to type the color “gray” I instinctually type “grey” first. Does it have something to do with the amount of books by British authors I’ve read? Maybe, but I don’t have the same problem with “realize” vs “realise” or “defense” vs “defence”. Plus, American versions vs. British versions where the spellings are changed and all that are a thing. Huh. I thought about just going with “grey”, since I guess my muscle memory likes it more, but then I realized I’ve used American spellings for everything else, so it would be kind of wrong. So yeah, “gray’ it is.  
> So yeah hopefully you guys enjoyed. Just realized this is another phrase I’ve picked up from watching too much Youtube. As always, my profile updates in between chapter updates when I have new news on chapter progress. I have an email address public now. In case... uh... why would people want to talk to me privately again? If you have something to say about this fic, that’s what the comments are for. Hmm oh well it’s there. 
> 
> Finally, shoutout to my sister. The youngest one. Who read through this chapter and caught a few grammatical mistakes I missed. Then I reread it and caught a few more, but still.


	9. Sincerity

“Scar,” Cub softly said, a tremor barely audible in the way he curled the letters. 

Scar didn’t respond, still reeling in a whirlwind of shock and panic. He tried to calm himself down, but it was like tendrils of the void itself were thrashing wildly in his mind, uprooting any attempt at grounding his thoughts, and he vaguely felt scrabbling at the blankets around him, he was breathing heavily, erratically-

“Scar, Scar - I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, are you alright?” The desperation was clearer than polished diamonds, a raw, panicked twist through each and every word. Something stabbed at Scar guiltily, and he wanted to reach out and reassure Cub that everything was alright and will be alright-

But nothing was alright.

“Scar, please answer me, I’m sorry-” Cub was panicking now, _again_ , and Scar could _hear_ something begin to shatter in his voice, the pressure of it all stacked like anvils on their chests-

 _“I’m fine,”_ he tried to choke out, but it came only as a rasping, unintelligible whimper. Instead, Scar closed his fingers around Cub’s hands and squeezed firmly.

“I’m fine,” he tried again. It still didn’t sound intelligible. Scar was - he was fighting so hard, to appear calm, to remain calm, but he was sure Cub could see right through him, like he always could-

But Cub’s breathing seemed to become just a bit less erratic as his eyes met Scar’s, anxious and searching.

“Why?” Cub’s voice trembled. “You don’t-”

“No,” Scar whispered. “Please - please don’t tell them, it doesn’t matter, please, I-”

His words failed him, once again.

Cub closed his eyes and drew back, hands retreating from Scar’s own, and Scar felt the loss of warmth more strongly than he had ever felt before. For a long moment, neither spoke, both wrapped deeply in their own worlds of confusion.

A soft, purring meow was what finally broke the silence. Scar’s eyes shifted downwards to see Jellie, batting a fluffy white paw at Cub’s legs before clambering onto his lap. She turned her eyes to Scar when Cub looked down, and Scar could see that clever, plotting expression she always held when she was orchestrating something to go her way.

“I promise, whatever they say, we’ll still let you go,” Cub said finally, and Jellie quieted down. There was fear and anxiety piled deep beneath Cub’s tone, picked out by Scar with seasons of familiarity. “I know I can’t really force you to do anything, in the end. But just - give us a chance?”

Scar shook his head. It didn’t matter that Cub would still let him leave - every time Scar thought about the other Hermits finding out, realizing what he’d done, _confronting him_ , a deep, gaping void swallowed his entire resolve, until all Scar wanted to do was fly far, far away.

His mind flitted, to the other Hermits, and the way they would react, with shock and confusion and anger, and that resolve sunk even deeper.

“It doesn’t matter,” Scar whispered, repeating himself. Like if he kept saying it, it would be true. Like if he kept saying it, the very act of revealing what he and Cub had hidden for so long wouldn’t tear Hermitcraft’s very foundations to thin, wispy shreds. Like if he kept saying it, all the secrets and lies he’d built up into a fragile network of precarious scaffolding wouldn’t violently, disastrously tumble down on him in a suffocating swamp of fear and panic and regret.

“But then - what do you have to lose?” Cub asked, brows furrowing, and his breathing seemed to even out as he caught his bearings again, leaning forward with shifting confusion. “I think we’ve been hiding this for long enough. And Xisuma agrees.”

He wanted to tell Cub it wasn’t that, it was everything else - everything Scar had refused to face, had refused to accept - but of course, even the idea of admitting any of it was so far-fetched that in another world, Scar could have laughed at his own weak spinelessness.

“I’m leaving, either way,” Scar forced out, in far too stable a tone than he had any right to hold. It didn’t matter, he had to stall, to stop - “But - you’d - _why?_ ”

Didn’t Cub know? Because there was so much at risk here - the Hermits’ relationships, _Cub’s_ future, the very stability that kept Hermitcraft afloat-

“They have a right to know, don’t they?” Cub’s eyes were resolved, now unusually calm in the statement, as though it grounded him in certainty. “I don’t - I don’t want to hide something so important to our world’s stability any longer. Not if I want to continue being a good friend, with the close calls we’ve had recently.”

Scar felt yet another stab of guilt drive through his chest, an icicle that radiated cold numbness to every part of his body.

No, he shouldn’t think about it, he had to focus-

_The world’s stability? But-_

“Cub… it’ll tear the hermits apart,” Scar whispered. They wouldn’t - they wouldn’t want something like that, would they? Surely, the other Hermits would rather their world stay as it is, peaceful and stable, with no partisan issues to drive a deep, dangerous, divide between them - a divide like so many Scar had seen before, and hoped he’d never see again. “Do you really think everyone will just react the same way? People will get genuinely angry at what the other side is saying. You - you need unanimous agreement to add new members for a reason - _this will tear Hermitcraft apart._ ”

Scar’s voice broke into a strangled gasp towards the end. He thought back to his life as BadTimes, observing and causing worlds of players to quarrel so many times, over so many things, the conflicts spiraling so out of control even those who wished to remain neutral would inevitably find themselves wound up in a scourge of fire and fury. 

“Xisuma and Grian both agreed telling would be for the best,” Cub said, and that searching look in his gaze was back again. “They both said they’ll support us. Etho wasn’t bothered by the idea of us being Hermits either. The evidence so far says most Hermits will probably want us to stay, and even those that don’t won’t be terribly against it.” A furry shape on his lap raised her head and blinked. Jellie meowed, bobbing her head in clear agreement. 

Scar could only stare at Cub, a sliver of disbelief coiling inside him. The line of logic was… so _unlike_ him, the way Cub was ignoring the most fundamental parts of common knowledge.

 _To vexes_ , Scar realized. _Knowledge to vexes._

“That’s - that’s not how these things work, Cub,” Scar said, wringing his hands. “Xisuma is a voidwalker - or whatever it’s called. Grian is - _Grian_ , and probably a Watcher. Both of them have enough power that they’ve probably never been personally affected by vexes. And Etho would let anyone join if they’re interesting enough - you know he doesn’t exactly consider... _normal_ factors when looking at possible new members. The other Hermits - at least a few of them know from personal experience what it’s like to be tortured by a vex. What it’s like to have one of us hang our power over their heads and mock them with it.”

Cub blinked, but there was no recognition or dawning in his eyes - and suddenly, Scar remembered the same lack of understanding when Cub stopped him from leaving, the way a particular few of Scar’s pleas fell so much flatter than they should have.

 _Unless he never knew to begin with_ , Scar thought, mind scrabbling for clues, for any stray information he could find to piece the mystery together. He’d heard - of course he had, every vex had - about _those_ vexes, who-

 _It would explain Cub’s level of control_ , Scar realized, and he couldn’t help but shudder, the horrific implications now making themselves clear.

“Are you alright?” Cub asked, looking increasingly anxious.

“Cub, what kind of world did you spawn into?” Scar asked hesitantly. He felt a pang in his heart as Cub shrunk back quickly, almost unconsciously, but Scar had to know. A distressed look flashed across Cub’s face, but he quelled it quickly.

“Not one with the environment vexes are normally raised in,” he said, and his fingers twitched, as though longing to grab onto something, anything. Instead, Cub took a deep breath and shut his eyes, like there was a phantom pain he was struggling to cast out. 

_That confirms it,_ Scar thought, but the realization only served to confuse him further. Shouldn’t Cub be _more_ understanding of what the Hermits will react like, if that was the case?

He remained silent, watching Cub turn away and gently stroke Jellie’s fur. She gave Cub’s hands a few comforting licks, purring.

“Scar - regardless of what I may or may not understand,” Cub said, opening his eyes a few seconds later, “it’s just… _wrong_ , to never tell the others. Hermitcraft deserves better.”

Scar knew prying further would be no use, even to Cub. He couldn’t make him understand, and Cub-

Cub’s expression remained adamant.

“It’s - we can’t hide this forever, Scar. The Hermits would want to know, and better sooner than later.” 

_Not if they knew what would happen_ , Scar thought. Staring at Cub, that feeling of cold, heavy dread swept over him again, as quick and implacable as blizzard winds, some instinct within him chiming light, warning rings in his mind.

“No, they-”

“Scar,” Cub interrupted, meeting his eyes, and they were so unyieldingly hardened- “If you want to leave Hermitcraft after this conversation - that’s fine. I’ll tell them anyway, alone.”

The declaration, said so calmly and certainly, shot more bolts of ice through his veins, diamond-sharp and mercilessly paralyzing. The winds built around them into cold, raging twisters - Scar took a deep, shuddering breath and closed his eyes, the words tossed about the whiteout inside him, incomprehensible, until-

_Why?_

_Why would you do this,_ _Cub?_

Didn't he - didn’t he want to avoid it too, if he could? The judgement, the suspicion, the hatred - from the Hermits, to them, and to each other. And unlike Scar, Cub didn’t deserve any of it.

“Scar?” Cub asked, brows furrowing worriedly. 

“W- why?” Scar whispered, closing his eyes. “Why would you risk so much for - just to-”

It didn’t make any sense. It just didn’t. Every way Scar tried to weigh the negatives with the positives, it just made no sense. 

Scar knew one thing for certain, and it was that the wellbeing of Hermitcraft came first and foremost, before everything else. Revealing what they were would upset the entire balance.

“It’s not worth the server - splitting up. Fighting.” A pleading tone bled through, painfully obvious. Scar felt a unique vulnerability under Cub’s gaze, his desperation laid so bare.

Cub simply shook his head in a determined, yet resigned way. Jellie looked up at him with wide, thoughtful eyes, and slunk from his lap into Scar’s arms instead. Scar stroked her head absentmindedly, snaking fingers around her downy ears, an anchor of warm familiarity in the stormy sea that was his mind.

“I don’t think you give Hermitcraft enough credit, Scar,” Cub said softly. “Isn’t it you, who always tells us to focus on the positives?” 

Scar blinked, and suddenly - the blizzard inside him seemed to quiet, to freeze, a painting still as clear water, waiting for- 

_You don’t give Hermitcraft enough credit._

The words struck him like a shovel to the face, hard and startling. Scar hadn’t considered, though it seemed so obvious now - Hermitcraft _was_ , after all, so supportive, so close-knit, and most of them didn’t really have anyone else besides each other.

Could - could he be selling Hermitcraft short? 

It contradicted everything Scar had ever learned about players, about societies and communities, and yet he couldn’t stop wondering, with a hammering heart-

_What if-_

_If Hermitcraft_ was _strong enough-_

It would uproot all his assumptions, and - and it was _wrong,_ though - despite Cub’s hopes, it was still just another flight of fancy and it wouldn’t be strong _enough_ -

“It’s not-” Scar thought back again, to the way the Hermits really did act like family, the support they all gave one another, the support that Scar knew he would miss most of all when he left-

-but wasn’t this also the same sense of family some of them would hold for Cub, even after the secret was revealed - the same emotions that could tear everything apart with disagreement?

 _It was_ , Scar thought, trying to collect his thoughts. The intensity of the emotions would only make the arguments more intense, drive the issue further into the ground, where it could pry its roots even deeper into the divide. Betrayal by close friends always stung so much more than betrayal by near strangers.

Even thinking about it now, Scar found a deep, bottomless pit in his chest, filled to the brim with all the ways things could go wrong. Of how quickly a peaceful community could turn into a horrifying bloodbath, all over a single, controversial subject.

Cub took a deep breath, his entire frame rattling with him like brittle desert skeletons. Scar’s eyes flitted up to meet his, and it was only then that Scar took in just how _exhausted_ Cub looked.

“Scar, think about it this way,” he said, resolute. “What do you bring to Hermitcraft?”

“I - I build,” Scar responded with a flicker of surprise. 

“And?”

“And…” Scar frowned, clawing at the blankets around him. Where was Cub going with this? And the question, it was yet another thing Scar didn’t want to think about, another thing he kept pushing further and further into the deepest recesses of his mind, always trying to ensure the thoughts would never see the light of day.

“And that’s it,” he mumbled, a dark, petrifying feeling taking hold as the words tumbled out his mouth. “Do you really want me to admit it, Cub? I build, and cause trouble by dying all the time and having people track down my stuff, and that _it._ I don’t even build anything unique, Grian and Keralis can do better buildings any day and we already have Bdubs and Stress for terraforming-”

Scar broke off and looked away. Somehow, this felt much worse, admitting to himself aloud how utterly useless he really was. Especially compared to Cub, a master of nearly every skill there possible.

But… as Scar said the words, an oddly freeing feeling also lifted inside him. Finally pouring his fears and insecurities out to someone, it was like tipping over the cauldron that had been stewing it inside him, laying all the contents bare for Cub to see.

Something briefly horrified flashed in Cub’s expression.

“Scar,” Cub said, leaning forward. “Do you really think we care about you just because of what you can _build?”_

Scar refused to meet his gaze, remaining quiet.

“We care because you’re our friend,” Cub said, and his voice shook with some suppressed emotion Scar could not understand. “You’ve tried so hard to be kind ever since you joined, and it _shows_. Everyone can see how miserable you’d be alone, shut out from anyone else, and none of us would ever wish that on you, because we care about your wellbeing and happiness. It’s gone far past what you can _build,_ Scar. This is about us not wanting to lose your empathy and determination and tireless support. It’s about us wanting to repay you for it all. It’s about us wanting you to be happy, for everything you’ve done for Hermitcraft, for all the good times you’ve given us. That's what we value you for.”

Cub reached out, and this time, he grasped Scar’s hands with his own. 

“And I don’t think that’ll change once the other Hermits know. Everyone supports each other so much, on the understanding we’re all hiding from our own pasts. You said it yourself, Grian’s probably a Watcher. Most of us have noticed it, but none of us pry into his past actions - only judge what he does now. Iskall was an assassin, remember? Mumbo has invented war machines.”

“They can choose to not be - not be murderous. It’s not worth it, even if everyone agrees,” Scar said, closing his eyes. “You haven’t had the close calls I’ve had, and I haven't even told you about some of then, I’ve _lied_ _to_ _you_ -”

Ultimately, it still came down to this. That the secret - and more importantly, Scar - would simply be too dangerous to risk letting loose on Hermitcraft.

“They’ll accept it,” Cub said determinedly. He leaned forward, eyes as dark as eclipsed new moons, the faintest scatter of starry glitters across them. They seemed to peer into Scar’s secrets and fears, deeper than even his own dreams ever could, and Scar had never felt so pinned. “We’re not so alone in our pasts, and we’ll all be willing to help make the future better. Being a vex isn’t a game-breaker, not if we don’t let it be. We’ve managed for over three seasons, remember?”

Scar bit his lip, all the sharp coldness inside him teetering at the edge of a cliff where searing hot lava was bubbling below, and he wasn’t sure which option he’d rather accept. 

“These are - these are impossibly high standards you’ve set for yourself,” Cub pressed on. “If you need to leave for a while to calm down, then do it. But until we say you aren’t, I don’t want to hear ‘I’m not a Hermit’ from your mouth ever again.”

Scar looked down, gently stroking Jellie’s back. She purred and rolled over, green eyes blinking in agreement with bright, wide pupils.

“I don’t-”

Scar hesitated. Was Cub right? Could he really be selling the Hermits short? He didn’t doubt for a moment their commitment to protecting Hermitcraft, after all, even if the threat came from within.

“But - would they really want to deal with it? With the conflict this could cause, wouldn’t most Hermits just wish it had never been brought up at all?” Scar whispered. “Why would they want to risk something like this?”

Wasn’t that the best way to protect Hermitcraft?

“Oh, Scar,” Cub said softly, and it was as though Scar’s words had cleared the windows in his eyes.

He didn’t want to hear what Cub had to say next, Scar realized with a strange certainty. And he also knew, equally well, that he had nowhere left to hide. The walls were impossibly tall, they seemed to arch over him, trapping him in a room full of darkness and fear, and the only light was Cub, high above and so impossibly hard to reach.

“Scar, I know you’re scared of their judgement. But I promise, it'll be alright. You’re strong enough to make it through - and so are the other Hermits.”

Scar closed his eyes, trying to stop the trembling his body had begun to force on him, but he couldn’t. And he couldn’t avoid Cub, and still, he couldn’t-

_But he could. He needed to. He had run out of places to hide._

“Scar, deep breaths, everything will be fine,” Cub said quietly, something akin to distress in his tone as he took in Scar’s hyperventilating. “No one here will ever want to hurt you, Scar. You don’t need to be scared of us.”

“They - they could vote you out too,” Scar gasped, shaking his head. He hated how obvious the tremors were, how clearly Cub must see the teardrops beginning to fall, his inability to deal with his own problems, instead making Cub take all the blame. Always, always, it was Cub who cleaned up after him. “Don’t you realize? If I’m voted out, then you will be too. You can’t - _I_ can’t risk that, you’ve never done anything to deserve that. Not like me.”

“I’ve done terrible things too, even if under different circumstances,” Cub said with a terrible, soothing gentleness. “I’m afraid too, Scar, but I’ve accepted that we need to resolve what we’ve done. I’ve accepted I’m to blame for hiding what I am, and I’ve accepted that I need to let the other Hermits make their judgement. I’m willing to take the risk. And I believe Hermitcraft is too.”

Scar looked into Cub’s eyes, a deep, mesmerizing black that had always held nothing but support and wisdom for him. Cub - Cub didn’t hesitate to face the Hermits. Of course he didn’t - Cub was always so, so much braver than Scar could ever hope to be. It would always feel like Scar was trailing in his shadow.

Something soft and furry brushed against his cheek. Jellie’s paws, he realized, batting at him adamantly. A black shape was held between her teeth, percipient eyes blinking softly.

When Scar looked down, she set the object gingerly in his hands.

 _My communicator_ , he realized with a jolt, bringing it up to eye level. Scar had stashed it deep within one of his chest monsters, back when he realized he couldn’t control the urge to unleash his magic on _something_ , hoping it would be one less leverage he could use against the Hermits when he inevitably snapped.

The messages - there were so many, so numerous, and as Scar watched, _still going._

_ <FalseSymmetry> Day 2 of waiting for answers about what’s going on with Scar, X. _

_ <Iskall85> yeah, seriously. Pls we need update. is Scar okay? can we help? if we all help this’ll be over quick, right?? or quicker, at least. _

_ <MumboJumbo> ded a badguys form his pas try t;o kilnap hims//? aRe we dogint a re’scuer?/ _

_ <xBCrafted> Is there any way we can help at all? You can always call for help, you know, X. You don’t need to solve every problem by yourself. Maybe we need to tell Scar that too, hmm. _

_ <BDoubleO100> yeah, we can help! Do we need to save Scar? Is Scar really sad or something? I have carrots to make him feel better. _

_ <Renthedog> Come on, X! You guys too, Grian and Cub! We need to know if Scar’s okay! Can we help in any way?? You’re killing us with the wait here!! Just tell us what’s happening, at least! _

_ <Iskall85> is Scar hurt or something? Is there anything that we can do?? come on, spill _

Scar’s breath hitched. He could feel Cub’s worried eyes, flicking between his expression and the words he couldn’t see.

He thought back to the other Hermits, who would give so much, who would sacrifice so much for their community, who would always go to any lengths to help one of their own in need.

_“Until we say you aren’t, I don’t want to hear ‘I’m not a Hermit’ from your mouth again.”_

And Scar - Scar knew that, didn’t he? He knew - he’s seen it so many times, including-

 _“You’re allowed to take breaks, Scar,”_ Xisuma’s voice echoed in his head. _“You work harder than the rest of us combined, and we all know it. No one will fault you for giving your own health some priority.”_

 _“Always feel free ta ask for ‘elp, Scar,”_ Stress had said, later that night at the sleepover, while the other Hermits had all piled up around him. Scar had felt like a tiny kitten, surrounded by the warmth and laughter of everyone else, anxieties about the community area having slipped away like drifting clouds on the wind.

Was - was he really underestimating Hermitcraft, like this? What made them so different from other worlds, other player groups that have been torn apart, mauled by secrets and suspicion?

Cub gave him a small, delicate shake, and Scar’s eyes slowly trailed to meet his. He wasn’t sure what Cub saw, what he thought, but-

“We’re all hiding from our own pasts on Hermitcraft, remember?” Cub said gently.

And the words shattered the longest silence of Scar’s entire life.

_Who else do we have, but each other?_

“Right,” Scar whispered. Jellie purred softly, rubbing her furry, silken head against his chest the way she always did when she wanted to charm him into giving extra food or play time. 

Cub’s previous words echoed in his mind, light and ringing, but for the first time Scar could only feel relief at the strange sensation.

_What do you have to lose?_

The determination Cub held for all his endeavors - it had always been a beacon of hope to Scar, of how much he wanted to follow Cub’s example. To clean his own messes and solve his own problems, instead of always relying on someone else. 

And here, Scar realized, was his chance. Cub was right - of course he was - Hermitcraft _would_ rather know, and it had been Scar’s own fears that leaked into his assumptions for everyone else. And no matter how much Scar dreaded what the other Hermits would say to him, it would never change the fact that he couldn’t run forever. Not if he wanted to put Hermitcraft’s best interests ahead of his own personal selfishness.

Scar had made Cub promise. Now, he had to keep up his own end of the deal as well. It was only… _fair_.

His breath seemed to return to that erratic state, when Scar thought about facing everything he’d tried to hide, tried to run from, his fear rising up again is a blazing tornado. Scar’s emotions, his anxiety, his dread - they didn’t care about fairness. They only cared about escaping judgement.

Scar looked at Cub again, and he reached forward to grab Cub’s hands and clutch them tightly, a grounded, steadfast anchor in the midst of the chaos that was his mind.

Cub. It was always Cub, Cub setting another example for him, yet again, and something both terribly elated and terribly guilty seemed to swell his entire body. 

“I’ll tell them,” Scar gasped with almost desperate ferverence, before he could back out, before he could try to run and hide again. “I - I agree. They deserve to know.”

He caught the relief flooding Cub’s expression, and perhaps even the glint of pride in his eyes - and then Cub was leaning forward and embracing Scar closely. The warmth flooded all his veins, relaxing every muscle of his body - and it was only now Scar realized just how exhausted and disheveled he himself must still be, with everything that had happened in the two days.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all this,” Cub whispered. “But whatever happens, Scar, just know I’ll always be there to support you, if you let me.”

“I’m sorry too,” Scar said, closing his eyes and letting himself melt into Cub’s arms. “I’m - I’m still so scared. Like I want to change my mind.”

And he still wanted to leave. Cub’s pleas, to just _tell them and listen_ \- Scar hadn’t forgotten. But Cub was so often right - and Scar didn’t want to think about whether to agree with him again.

He didn’t want to think about anything more. He wanted to hide again.

Hiding - Scar knew that was no longer an option, and eventually, the walls would close in completely. He would have to bring it up. He would have to respond. And Scar wasn't sure whether he had enough courage left in him to do so. 

But he would have to find out. 

For now, just for now, Scar cast aside those questions and focused on the tight comfort of Cub’s embrace - and on the immediate future he had just created.

One where he would no longer be hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After much delay and getting sidetracked, it's here! Please, please let me know what you thought, it's so incredibly important I know how well I did here. Narratively, this is absolutely the most importantly chapter of the story.
> 
> Uncharacteristically, I don't really have all that much to say here, besides another plea for feedback. 
> 
> Hope you've enjoyed reading!


	10. Clarity

Around ten minutes in, Xisuma started to pace.

“What could they be talking about?” he asked, glancing at Larry. The snail, lifeless as always, gave him no answers.

There was only one person who could.

“What worlds they’ll escape to if they get voted out?” 

_“Grian.”_

“I’m just saying! It’s a distinct possibility.” Grian was making strange faces at a nearby parrot. Perched on one of the numerous leafy bushes around them, its scarlet feathers were puffed out in an admittedly brave, if foolish show of nonchalance.

Xisuma sighed, slumping against a shulker box. There was a dull ache in his bones, a limpness to his muscles, and as he closed his eyes it proved hard to open them again.

 _When was the last time we slept?_ Rummaging around his inventory, Xisuma lifted the flap of his helmet and bit into some golden carrots. The gold coating flaked and melted in his mouth like a thick, vicious potion, and he somehow found the strength to stand up once more. 

“Good point,” Grian yawned. Xisuma wasn’t quite sure what message he’d indicated, but Grian rolled his neck and continued. “I’m going back to my hobbit hole to clean up. See you in 15 minutes.”

Watching Grian take off in a flurry of rockets, Xisuma felt the weight of everything drag him down into a murky swamp of lethargy. 

The weight of what had happened. The weight of what they still had to do. 

But his own base was too far away, and he had to wait for Cub and Scar, whatever they were doing. 

The lake next to Larry, however, gleamed in the brilliant setting sunlight, cool and inviting. Had it really been an entire day since Grian’s first encounter with an unbalanced Scar in this very jungle?

“Might as well rinse while I can,” Xisuma sighed. His legs felt like blocks of iron as he dragged himself to the edge of the lake. The water’s surface was smooth and clear, and Xisuma found himself taking a bit of comfort in the way it fluttered ever so slightly to the wind, silent peacefulness hidden beneath.

He reached up and unlatched his helmet. It slid off with relative ease, and Xisuma placed it behind him.

The water submerged him in a cool, crisp rush as he waded beneath the surface. Sinking deeper and deeper into the depths, he closed his eyes and reveled in the slow, cold descent, dark hair trailing upwards like waving seaweed, lungs still in perfect calmness. The water washed away the dirt, the sweat, and the worries for a few blissful moments, and Xisuma wished for just a second he could stay like this forever, quiet and serene, with no world to be held accountable for.

Such was, however, not his reality. Eventually, reluctantly, the pull of responsibility guided his ascent back out to land, and Xisuma found himself shaking his head dry. His lungs drew in a shaky breath - most voidwalkers were accustomed to overworld air, and Xisuma could still survive just fine - but he still preferred his helmet. It felt… safer. Like he was in control. Like he wouldn’t topple over at the first sign of stress to his body.

The helmet slid back into place with a _snap_ , and Xisuma breathed out slowly, steadily. He was certainly more awake now. Hopefully, it would be enough to get him through what had to happen next.

_“We should tell the others.”_

It appeared Cub and Scar were still talking. 

Xisuma munched on another carrot, feeling anxieties pile up again. There were problems with what telling others could entail. Problems he wasn’t sure he knew how to deal with.

Nevertheless, it had to be done. It was the lesser of many evils, he supposed. There were rarely perfect solutions.

A few minutes later, Grian glided down and landed elegantly in front of him. His red sweater had been changed out for an identical one, and it was clear he’d washed up as well, hair damp and brushed back, face rid of grime. His eyes, however, still blinked tiredly back at him. 

“What do you think-”

Larry’s door creaked. Xisuma whirled to see Cub hop down the ladder, and Scar slowly follow. There was a deeply exhausted glaze in both their eyes, as though they’d just battled and barely escaped monsters from their worst nightmares.

Scar gave a tired smile when he saw them, however. His entire fame seemed to shake as he stumbled forward, and Xisuma frowned as he remembered the restless, comatose state he’d been forced into earlier in the day.

“Are you alright, Scar?” Grian asked, voicing their concerns. “I mean, none of us have slept in nearly two days, but you must be especially worn out. I don’t think you got any rest while you were unconscious.”

“I’m fine,” Scar murmured, but he closed his eyes and leaned on Cub’s shoulder. “We should tell the others as fast as possible.”

“We do need to sleep first,” Cub pointed out, “especially since we’re not using our magic to fuel us now.”

Scar looked like he wanted to protest, but Xisuma had made up his mind as well.

“We should all get some rest,” he said firmly. “The sun’s setting already. Tomorrow, we’ll talk to the other Hermits. I assume?” He directed the statement at Cub, who nodded.

“Right,” Grian yawned, and he looked immensely relieved. “Feel free to plop a bed down at my place, I-Suma.”

“Will do,” Xisuma acknowledged. “I’ll notify the other Hermits,” he added, turning to Cub and Scar. “You two should go to sleep. Properly, this time.”

Cub nodded, nudging a reluctant, but complying Scar back to Larry. Xisuma turned around and pulled up the chat again.

_ <Xisuma> We’ll tell you guys everything tomorrow. _

_ <Iskall85> TOMORROW??? Another day?? _

_ <ImpulseSV> does it really need to wait that long? Can’t you all tell us now? _

_ <Xisuma> You guys can wait for Scar. He hasn’t slept in two days, and is in no position to be giving lengthy explanations right now. _

_That_ got everyone’s attention.

_ <Iskall85> oh okay that makes sense sorry _

_ <xBCrafted> Hope he feels better soon! _

_ <Renthedog> take all the time you need, Scar! _

_ <Joehillssays> Sleep tight, Scar! I imagine you’ll have quite the story to tell. _

Xisuma smiled softly. Of course that would do the trick. 

He dismissed the chat and took out some rockets, angling himself at Grian’s hobbit hole. Despite the sun having not fully set yet, the prospect of sleep was something he could no longer resist.

It was time Xisuma went to bed as well.

* * *

“So I had a thought last night,” Grian announced as he glided down. Sunlit grass caressed his arms for just a moment as he straightened up, and he brushed off droplets of morning dew.

Everyone else turned to stare.

“Oh?” Xisuma hummed. He looked much better with a night’s rest - all of them did, of course, but Grian thought there was a unique new spring to their admin’s steps as he walked around. “What is it?”

Grian turned to Cub and Scar, both seated on one of the numerous chests scattered next to Larry.

“Scar, what else did you do on the Nether roof?” Grian asked. “Is there anything we need to deactivate? We should probably do that first.”

The Button’s line of green flashed in his mind. That was mostly harmless, but only Scar could know for sure what else he’d done during that period of relapse.

“Oh, right.” Xisuma said.

“Um, the dirt Jellie structure needs to be taken down,” Scar said, eyebrows furrowed. “And I may or may not have programmed the Button to eat anyone who pressed it.”

 _"Eat?"_ Xisuma echoed. Grian blinked in similar bewilderment.

_Eat?_

“Ah - like, swallow the player and deal suffocation damage,” Scar mumbled, eyes darting downwards. “But the redstone should still work if I take my magic away. I think.”

“Is there anything else?” Xisuma asked.

Scar shook his head.

“I reached the ice spikes plains pretty quickly,” he said, voice small. “And I was still trying to limit my damage, at the time.”

All in all, Grian supposed, things could have been much worse. It wasn’t great consolation, but it was something.

“Well, let’s go get rid of the dirt Jellie and restore the Button,” he jumped in. Despite the night of sleep, Grian was still eager to put the entire matter behind them all. Notch knows he’d dealt with enough dangerous backstories in his life.

“And then tell the others about… all of this,” Cub reminded. He placed a hand on Scar’s shoulder.

“The meeting would be in the shopping district, then,” Xisuma murmured. “Blind voting, or should Hermits see other Hermits’ decisions? How much time to discuss everything? There’s a lot to work out here.”

An apprehensive expression crossed Scar’s face - and there was a fear in his eyes Grian understood all too well. Though he still didn’t know Scar anywhere near as well as Cub, or most of the other Hermits, what Grian had been able to glean so far told him, among other things, that Scar was absolutely terrified of being in the spotlight. 

Especially with a topic... like this.

His mind ticked. Grian could still recall a few tricks, dealing with sensitive subjects.

“How about we do it individually?” he proposed. “Or in small groups. And if they want to discuss it with other Hermits, they can. But telling one or two people at a time would be less chaotic.”

“Y-yeah,” Scar said, nodding rapidly. Cub leaned closer to him. 

“Sounds… good.” Through his helmet’s heavily tinted panes, Grian saw Xisuma blink slowly. “I - I hadn’t considered...”

“That makes sense,” Cub said. He didn’t clarify his statement further.

“So, who do we talk to first?” Grian asked, watching Scar carefully. He seemed mostly clueless as well, however, still blinking with clear nervousness. But at least the fear had receded.

A few seconds passed as they all considered the options.

“Etho,” Cub responded finally.

“He already knows,” Xisuma pointed out.

“Right,” Cub nodded. “But we still need to confirm his stance on the subject, and I think he would have insight into what some other Hermits might think too. It’s a good starting point, if nothing else.”

Thinking it over, Grian realized he had his own suspicions for where some Hermits’ votes might fall. Vexes weren’t a topic brought up often for the simple reason that it wasn’t ever really relevant on Hermitcraft, but the species was… _influential_ enough that discussion wasn’t too uncommon either.

He held his tongue, however. Nothing was certain, and Grian didn’t want to lay any false assumptions on the table just yet.

From the looks of it, they all felt the same.

“Well then, Etho it is,” Xisuma said. “He’s still at his ice farm.”

Grian nodded, angling his head towards the portal Scar had built a little ways away. The blackened ground and fissures of purple mist were hard to miss in the otherwise vibrant green jungle, like it had been ripped from a strange, ancient part of the Nether itself.

“Let’s go.”

* * *

The dirt Jellie broke down remarkably fast with four people and efficiency 5 shovels, and thankfully, no ghasts had spawned when they approached the structure. The Button was a bit less straightforward, but Grian found himself quirking a smile as Scar stumbled haphazardly through its internal mess of redstone components.

The vex had a concentrated expression on his face, however, and as he laid on hand in the redstone, it seemed to flash a pure, bright blue.

“Is that it?” Xisuma asked as Scar gingerly stepped back out, patching up the hole on the Button’s side.

“That’s it,” Scar confirmed. “Taking away the magic is a lot easier than calibrating it to act in a specific way. At least when it comes to my ability to… animate.”

Grian had many, many questions about how an ability like that would work - and he practically salivated at the idea of what build teams for hub worlds could do if they had that power.

But that was a topic for another time. 

* * *

It was a cold, crisp morning on the ice spikes tundra. 

Through the open window of his small, frozen base, light shone clear, and wind blew in gentle whispers that fluttered his hair and chilled his skin.

Etho closed his eyes as warm, rich coffee met his lips. The sweetened liquid melted into energy as he swallowed, savoring every creamy drop. There were few things in the worlds as satisfying to Etho as a good cup of coffee to begin the day.

Setting the cup down, he blinked, watching the glint of morning sun shimmer off crystal blue towers in the distance. The scene was calm and still, light and clear, nothing like the night Scar had lost control.

Etho could only assume Xisuma, Cub, and Grian had managed to deal with the situation in some way, if the reassurances in chat were to be believed.

Of course, there was always the chance that it was merely an elaborate scheme concocted by Scar to lull them all into a false sense of security. Undoubtedly, such schemes were hallmarks of vexes. 

Etho highly doubted it, however. 

And based on what he’d seen, Scar’s own health was the biggest concern; not what he could do to others.

There was a knock on the door, firm and clear, yet with an odd rhythm of quiet reservedness. Etho took another sip. There was only one person he knew who knocked like that.

_Speak of whom, see of whom._

“Come in,” he said lightly. “There’s still plenty of coffee in the cauldron. It’s mixed with speed potions already, however. Apologies if you prefer other flavors.”

Scar peaked his head in, green eyes clear, but hesitant. Etho gave him a reassuring smile. 

It still wasn’t a guarantee that Scar was… no longer behaving like a vex. But it was close enough.

 _Awkward terminology_ , Etho thought, wincing internally. But it was true. Inflicting fear was part of a vex’s code, ingrained as deeply as cravings for villager flesh were in zombies, or the instinct to protect its temple were in guardians. Whenever their code was brought up and studied, it was clear as day.

“Speed coffee is fine,” Scar answered, stepping in. There was a noticeable tremor in his hands as they pushed the door open, but Etho elected not to comment. 

He was rather good at that, if he did say so himself. Treading delicate topics, when he needed to - though it stemmed from the fact that Etho would often rather avoid them entirely.

“The rest of you are welcome too,” Etho mildly said.

Grian gave him a sheepish grin as he stepped into view and entered, followed closely by Cub and Xisuma. 

“So I assume Scar has things sorted out?” Etho asked once they’d all taken a seat around his table. Scar, Cub, and Grian were all sipping coffee, but Xisuma had shaken his head at the offer almost disdainfully, which Etho found both amusing and offensive. He made a mental note to access Xisuma’s tea supply sometime.

“Well… yes,” Scar said awkwardly. “I mean - sorry about your farm.”

“It’s fine,” Etho said. “Didn’t take too long to fix. But let’s talk about why you’re here.”

Xisuma cleared his throat.

They gave him a very simple, very run down version of what had happened after Scar left his farm - he had wanted to leave Hermitcraft, they convinced him not to (though based on the uncomfortable looks, Etho suspected there was a lot more to be said than just “convinced”), and Scar eventually agreed to tell all the Hermits and let them make the judgement.

“Well, of course I’d rather you two stay,” Etho said breezily when they finished. “There’s so many possibilities with what vex magic can do, and it would be a great shame to lose this opportunity. If either of you have time after this, I have quite a few questions and experiments waiting.”

Scar looked vaguely relieved at the words, if a bit nervous. But to Etho’s surprise, behind Cub’s smile was a strained, dare he say, almost _fearful_ twitch. 

He wasn’t sure what to make of it, considering how eager Cub usually was to test the laws of their universe - but he decided to ignore it once again.

“Another thing, Etho. Do you...” Xisuma trailed off with a lilt of uncertainty, as though seeking the right words.

“Yes?” Etho asked, tilting his head. 

“Do you think the other Hermits would agree to this system?” Xisuma asked. “The voting, I mean. Most of them were never at that original meeting. And most of them don't even know about it.”

Etho took a deep breath. That old, gnawing fear was back - _what if they don’t agree?_

“You’ve been worrying over this for a while, haven’t you?” he mused. But that was rhetorical. He’d known their admin long enough to realize Xisuma _always_ worried. Especially when it came to considering everyone’s input on a subject - the entire dilemma of factoring every Hermit’s wishes was an anxiety inducing mess, but as admin it was Xisuma’s obligation. 

“I think… I think the Hermits in general would have trust in our democracy, wouldn’t they?” Etho said finally. That was what _he_ had always believed in, anyway - that the system Hermitcraft operated under could be trusted. That it was fair. That it worked, maybe not for every assembly of players, but certainly for them. “We’ve always operated under the assumption of equal and fair vote, except for new members joining, for obvious reasons. No Hermit has more say over what happens than another.”

But just because he believed in it, didn’t mean everyone else will. Etho had learned that lesson once.

“You think they’ll agree to our standard voting system, even with something as important as whether members should leave?” Xisuma asked. He tried and failed to contain the worry in his tone. Once again, Etho didn’t comment. His own internal worry was spilling over - but he hadn’t let it affect his rationale before. He wouldn’t let it now.

“They… they must adhere to the systems by which we operate, if we are to have trust in the continued function of this community,” Etho said slowly. “I think you need to impress that fact on them.” 

_Mojang above, I’m starting to sound like Joe._

_I’m also starting to understand Joe._

“That’s - that’s one of the strategies vexes use to topple player communities,” said Scar unexpectedly. His eyes seemed to darken. “Every society operates on a set of agreed upon rules. Basically, it’s the rules that determine how decisions which affect the group are made. A government, maybe, if there’s enough players, but that’s the basic premise. If enough players’ trust in that system is called into question, the existing dynamics of that entire community falls apart. It’s how revolutions happen. It’s how civil wars happen. It’s how splits happen. It’s - why - why-”

“Why all of this could go terribly wrong,” Etho admitted. “I’ve seen it happen before.”

Scar sighed, looking away.

Etho turned to Xisuma. The admin was still. Unnaturally still.

“I’m no expert in emotions. Or social commentary. And I’m rather removed from the more personal side of pretty much everything, so take what I say with a swig of blindness,” Etho said finally. “Scar’s right, of course - but I think the other Hermits would know that too. I just don’t know how well my logic translates over to theirs.”

“I think you know plenty of what you’re talking about,” Xisuma murmured. “But I’ll bring it up with everyone else, and make sure they understand.”

“Speaking of everyone else,” Cub asked, hesitation clear. “How do you think they’ll…”

“React?” Etho asked. Cub nodded.

They had probably picked the worst Hermit to ask these questions first, Etho thought wryly. His mind was a strange machine, unbothered and unable to empathize with biases of personal experience, fixated on the unconventionally logical. Etho knew it. He’d accepted it, and so had everyone else.

But it also meant such a question was beyond his comprehension for a clear, logical answer. Etho could predict player behavior based on time tested studies and knowledge of illusions the mind often fell victim to. He knew the sciences of misdirection, of logical fallacies. How to exploit them, how to avoid them. But emotions and reactions on a topic as uncertain as this, where unknown experience and trauma guided the possibilities into an endless expanse of fog, Etho had no plausible answer for.

“I don’t know,” he said simply. “I don’t know how they’ll react. I know Bdubs shies away from talking about vexes. I know Beef has expressed distaste for your species. I know Tango thinks the magic is, to quote, ‘terrifyingly amazing’. But I have no idea what they’ll say to you, or which way they’ll vote. It’s not something I have the data to predict for, and even if it was, I doubt you could draw patterns on personalities.”

“I understand it's a decision that’ll take time for some Hermits,” Cub said, shifting. Etho nodded, pushing down his own rising nervousness. He wasn’t one to normally care for drama, but the implications of what could happen to Hermitcraft unsettled him in a way few things ever have.

They lapsed into a silence. Etho finished the last of his coffee, though the taste seemed strangely dulled. 

“Well,” Grian said. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet during the entire discussion, though Etho wouldn’t know just how well the rumors portrayed his actual personality. It was more of an assumption on his part.

 _I’ve been making an awful lot of those_ , he reflected. _Should probably stop._

“I’ll take my leave after this conversation,” Grian continued, when no one else spoke up. “Xisuma’s the admin, but I just happened to get caught up in this whole thing by chance. The less people around, the less awkward this’ll be.”

Etho couldn’t blame him for not wanting to get caught up further.

“Sure,” Cub said. “Sorry about all this.” 

There wasn’t really much else to add, Etho supposed. Perhaps they’d run all their words dry beforehand, in whatever way Scar had been convinced to stay and talk, or they were saving up for the more… delicate confessions. Probably both. Despite how unequipped he was to give insight, Etho was, after all, still a safe starting point.

“Let’s talk to the other former Kingdomcrafters next,” Scar said. “They were… we’ve known them the longest.”

“Right,” Cub agreed, looking out the window. His black irises seemed to swallow all the sunlight that dared shine upon them like a hungry, bottomless abyss, and Etho caught himself wondering how he didn’t suspect Cub’s vex nature before as well. In all his projects and endeavors, the obsession with control often crossed to an unhealthy degree reminiscent of the more unstable vexes. The way Cub directed all the consequences at himself instead of others, rather than comforting, served only to make it all the more unsettling. 

It was a train of thought for another day, and another person who understood the concept of therapy better than Etho.

“We should get going, then,” Xisuma said. “Grian, are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Grian said. “I’ll head back to my base and await your response, but I really have no business treading on something so… personal. It’ll only complicate things.”

“Imagine that,” Scar laughed. “Grian not wanting to complicate things. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Grian elbowed him in the ribs.

It was time they left. Empty cups were laid in the cauldron, and Etho waved goodbye as they filed out. He got up and took out a bucket, preparing to wash everything.

As Scar was about to shut the door, however, one more thought crossed Etho’s mind.

“Scar,” he said. Scar paused, leaning in questioningly. “I don’t want you to take my reasoning the wrong way. I genuinely believe you and Cub can coexist as Hermits. I - I probably should have said that earlier. But I believe it could work. And you can tell the other Hermits that, too.”

Etho paused. There was more he wanted to say. There was more he _should_ say. But he had no idea how to word it. 

How to word that he wanted to question, to experiment, but neither Cub or Scar should feel pressured. That he believed in their conviction to do their best for everyone else. 

The - the _fear_ he felt, whenever he considered the possibility of Hermitcraft falling apart. 

Was there a way to tell it all tactfully? Was there a _wrong_ way to tell it? Etho didn’t know. He wasn’t used to this kind of subtlety, with emotions.

Scar blinked slowly.

He seemed to understand, on some level, however, giving Etho a small, grateful smile before closing the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s this? A fic where Xisuma willingly takes care of himself? O_O
> 
> So everything about X’s armor makes the lore so much more complicated and head scratching. In the end I applied Occam's Razor and just decided to go with the simplest explanation for it possible.
> 
> Also, about Xisuma. Since he always has his helmet on it’s really hard to write expressions for him? Like if it’s not from his perspective, facial cues can’t be used to indicate to the reader and the perspective characters how he’s feeling. It’s kinda inconvenient, but I appreciate the challenge to use more varied forms of non-verbal reactions. 
> 
> Writing Etho is a challenge and a half, alright. He has such a different mindset compared to most other characters and I don’t think I did that justice at all here. Definitely a character I should practice writing from the perspective of more.
> 
> Also, figuring out the timeframe here, this takes place in HC when it was in like...late May, and still in early season (since that's when I started writing it). Head Hunt had just finished, the button was still alive, everyone was still above the Nether when traveling and 1.16 hadn’t come around yet. Wow, feels like just yesterday…
> 
> Etho drinking coffee - well, my excuse is that cocoa beans exist so... I mean I know they're supposed to be used for chocolate and coffee beans are a different plant, but come on. the opportunity is too good. Cocoa beans are dark and bitter and can totally be boiled into a coffee-like drink. Also yeah, potions are a flavoring for coffee in this world (though I suppose a lot of things could be used as a flavoring, potions would jsut be the most common). Most people use speed potions since it tastes sweet (sugar is the main component of speed potions), and because it makes practical sense. It’s almost always useful to have a speed boost. 
> 
> (The same thing can be done with tea…additional flavoring options not only depending on what potions or lack thereof used, but also depending on the type of leaf... or seaweed/seagrass...).
> 
> As always, tell me what you thought?


	11. Systems

_ <Xisuma> whispered to <Iskall85> Prepare for guests. I’m calling Stress and Ren over to talk about what happened. We’ll be at your starter base. _

_ <Iskall85> whispered to <Xisuma> y not tell us in chat. or meeting with everyone _

_ <Xisuma> whispered to <Iskall85> We will, eventually. But we’re telling you three separately first. _

_ <Iskall85> whispered to <Xisuma> riiight. sure. okay. _

_ <Xisuma> whispered to <Iskall85> Thanks for your cooperation? _

_ <Iskall85> whispered to <Xisuma> lol of course _

_ <Xisuma> whispered to <Stressmonster101> Go to Iskall’s starter base. _

_ <Xisuma> whispered to <Renthedog> Go to Iskall’s starter base _

_ <Stressmonster101> whispered to <Xisuma> is this about da thing? wif cub and scar? _

_ <Xisuma> whispered to <Stressmonster101> yes. We’ll explain more once you’re there. _

_ <Renthedog> whispered to <Xisuma> sure! On my way :D _

* * *

“It’s done,” Xisuma said. “They’re coming.”

“Cool. Are you guys going to just stand outside until they do like a bunch of fools?”

Scar flinched, whirling around to see Iskall glide down with a vaguely bemused expression and stride to the doorway of their starter base. Though there was already a door in their hands, they still gave the empty space a huff of mild exasperation before placing it down.

Cub coughed quietly.

“Uh...” Xisuma seemed rather lost, flitting glances between Scar and Iskall as though he had never considered their current situation a possibility.

“Come to the inside,” Iskall snorted. “I have cookies.”

“I’ll take up that offer,” Cub said, throwing Scar a reassuring smile before striding into the base. “Good morning, Iskall.”

“Good morning to you too, Cub,” Iskall replied, following him inside. “Are you two coming?”

Scar began shuffling in behind them, glancing around. Iskall’s starter base reminded him of a submission for one of those “redesign a mineshaft to beg the gods for a cave update” contests. Glitterings ores were scattered across nooks and crannies of every stone surface, barrels and chests tossed around in a way that was both haphazard and oddly pleasing to the eye.

Iskall plopped down on a cushion of slime in the corner, guestering at a nearby set of wool-covered couches.

“Cookies in that barrel,” they said, nodding at the storage a few blocks to their left. Cub rummaged around in it before settling next to Scar, handing him a few dozen of the treats. Xisuma sat a little ways away on a chair next to Iskall, hands on his lap, shaking his head at the offer.

“So,” Iskall said, somehow managing to lean even further back into their seat of slime. Scar felt himself shift uncomfortably under the curious diamond gaze.

“So,” Cub said mildly. 

“We’re here to talk about… what’s been happening,” Xisuma said. “And what’s happened. Uh - yeah.”

“With me and Scar, that is,” Cub added. “But Stress and Ren should be around to hear this first as well.”

“So we’re hearing it _first_?” Ren’s voice asked inquisitively. Scar turned to see him blinking from the doorway, sunglasses in hand. 

Xisuma made a slight noise of frustration. Both Cub and Iskall rolled their eyes at him, and despite the nervous shivers that seemed to rack his entire body, Scar managed to hide a smile..

“Besides Etho and Grian, yes,” Cub said. “We decided telling you three before the others would be… best.”

“Why?” Stress walked in and took a seat next to Xisuma, Ren following shortly. “Kinda weird, jus’ tellin’ us three firs’.”

“Well-” Xisuma paused, glancing at Scar. 

Scar lowered his eyes, biting into his cookie and avoiding the obvious inquiry. He fought down the tremor of guilt inside him.

After a long moment, Iskall spoke up.

“It’s about Kingdomcraft, isn’t it? That’s the only connection I can think of between the five of us. This is more serious than I thought.”

Xisuma sighed. Cub nodded. 

Slowly, agonizingly, in what seemed like the longest, most painful ascent of his life, Scar looked up to meet Iskall’s eyes. 

And he forced himself to not look away. 

He couldn’t. Otherwise, he might never look back. 

“Oh…” Ren looked around, and then smiled. “Well, whatever the issue is, I’m sure we can solve it like how we usually do!”

“With a ton of TNT?” Iskall asked, raising an eyebrow. Ren shove them playfully. Iskall snickered as the entire mass of slime jiggled back and forth, but with Iskall still firmly entrenched in their seat.

“No,” Ren laughed. “By talking it out. Communication is key and all that, you know?”

The words hit him like a searing bolt of lighting, and Scar felt his heart plunge. It was unintentional, he knew - but it felt like the universe had observed their entire situation and, like some cruel, twisted puppeteer, given Ren those exact words as a complete and utter mockery of all his past mistakes.

“I - I’m sorry,” Scar blurted, closing his eyes. “About that. We should have told - communicated. A lot sooner.”

“Wha’ is it?” Stress asked. “It’s been botherin’ ya alot, I can tell.”

Scar turned to Cub, all the past coldness rushing back into him in one silent, swooping torrent. 

Cub gave him a tiny nod, eyes as certain as ever. 

The message was clear. He had to be the one to say it. The past few days - it had all been because of him, after all.

The thought was, in that moment, more terrifying than it had ever been. For a few fleeting seconds, every bit of dread and anxiety and panic Scar had ever felt in the past few days surged back, enveloping him, drowning him-

-he took another deep breath, focusing on Cub’s presence beside him, the encouragement he had provided for so long - and slowly, agonizingly, he began pushing the doubt away.

_You know why you need to talk._

He forced himself to sweep his gaze across the room, meeting everyone’s eyes. He imagined the certainty and conviction Cub always held and grasped onto it, tried to internalize it in every part of his mind, tried to hold himself in the same way Cub had done when he’d told him so clearly, so confidently of why he needed to confront the truth. He laid his hands gently on his lap and drew himself minisculely taller in his seat and tried to relax his expression-

 _Just say it_. 

Scar was, right now, the greatest danger Hermitcraft faced. It was his responsibility to face it.

He opened his mouth, the words on his tongue like flower field breezes, light and feathery, as if yearning to fly free-

“I’m a vex.”

The first thing he noticed was the silence. 

Everyone was completely still. Still as armor stands, judging, eyes trained directly on Scar. No more shifting, snacking, or finger tapping-

The second thing he registered, slowly, the realization itself dragging him out of the swampy depths of his mind, was Cub gently shaking his shoulder.

_Oh. I’m imagining things._

And suddenly, everything unfroze. Iskall continued munching on a cookie. Stress’ face was grimaced uncomfortably. Xisuma shifted further into his seat, looking away. Ren had his eyes closed.

“And me too,” Cub said. “Let’s not forget I’m a vex too.”

“Sure,” Iskall said. “Okay. Right. So? You still haven’t told us what the past two days were all about.”

“How? How did fis happen?” Stress said at the same time, eyes wide. “X. I wan' an explanation.”

“I - uh-” 

“Oh, that’s easy,” Iskall shrugged. “Voidwalkers are usually more… apathetic? Yeah, apathetic towards vexes than normal players. Balance of power and all that. And Xisuma is just surprisingly naive too, especially back when Season 4 started.” 

“Surprisingly naive?” Xisuma echoed, blinking. Scar took a deep breath, directing his mind towards considering their admin's disinterested reaction to everything he and Cub had done, the act of letting them in Hermitcraft in the first place - _Iskall has a point_ , he realized. _And it does make sense. Xisuma’s spent most of his life with Hermitcraft._

“What I want to know,” Iskall barged on, “is what in the worlds Wels was thinking.”

“W - wait - can we stop fer a min'!” Stress yelped. “This is gettin' - we need ta slow down.” 

She took a deep breath. 

“So, _both_ of ya are vexes. True vexes. The mobs that exist ta tormen' players.”

“We weren’t meant to exist,” Scar mumbled. “Vexes started out as a glitched entity, and Notch meant to remove us. He just - just never got around to it before the next gods took over. But we - yes. We’re both vexes.”

“And - and Xisuma le' both o' ya in. Without tellin' any o' us,” Stress said, and there was tremor of fury in her tone that she didn't bother to hide. Xisuma winced, meeting her eyes.

“Sorry,” he said. “I knew they would get vetoed if I revealed it, though. I just - I was curious, alright? I promise I haven’t done anything like that before or since.”

Iskall gave Xisuma a look of injured disappointment, while Stress closed her eyes and took a deep breath with the expression of someone whose entire world had been spun upside down. Scar thought back to everything that had been discussed, all the questions and implications and confessions, and supposed that the comparison was true enough.

“Right, very dramatic and all, this is," Iskall finally began, "But what about Wels?”

Stress whirled to them, eyes opening into a narrow slit.

“How are you so calm about this?” she hissed, grabbing their vest and yanking them closer with tight, hard ferocity. “Did you know something?”

“Well - it was kind of obvious, wasn’t it?” Iskall asked, guestering around. “Seriously? The whole Convex thing? Remember? And Scar’s behavior gave him away pretty early in Season 4.”

“I thought tha whole Convex thin' was a joke! A parody!” Stress snapped, voice strained. “Wha' was I supposed ta fink? Vexes have _never_ lived among players peacefully in our ‘istory wif each other!”

“With all due respect, Stress, just because you’ve never heard of it doesn’t mean it’s never happened,” Cub interjected quietly, and there was something strange in the way he tilted the words, soft and subdued. Iskall gave him a curious glance before prying Stress’ fingers off of themself.

“I’m sorry,” Scar managed to say in a small voice. Stress sighed, turning away. 

“Okay,” she muttered. “So that's a thing. This is all - a fing. And wha’ about tha past few days?”

Scar felt Cub squeeze his hand, an anchor of comfort for which he was, once again, immensely grateful. 

He felt the words rise quicker this time, even lighter, even brighter-

“I - it became too hard to resist my code,” Scar said. “We - we were-”

“We decided to not do magic this season and see if it would help,” Cub said, giving Scar another reassuring glance. “Since there were some close calls last season too, we had to try _something._ Scar went through a withdrawal.”

“That’s a fing?” Stress asked, leaning back. She paused, relaxing her expression just a little, something akin to perplexity in her voice. “Wifdrawals? From not usin’ vex magic?”

“Unfortunately,” Cub grimaced. “The results aren’t pretty to say the least, so we can’t avoid magic forever. We - we pushed it too far.”

Scar squeezed Cub’s hand back.

“It’s sorted now, right? Or as sorted as it can be?” Iskall asked. “Based on how you’re acting, Scar, I would say yes. To be honest, actually, I only suspected you were a vex. Cub was a surprise. Which I still need answers from Wels about, by the way.”

“Well, I’m still too tired to want to do much more,” Scar sighed. But he couldn’t hide from his nature any more than he could hide from his past. It was fundamentally part of him, no matter what he did, and Scar had realized there was no use denying it. “It’ll come up eventually. It’s only a matter of time, and then - then everyone will be in danger again.” His voice caught at the end, and he swallowed it down before leaning closer to Cub. 

Scar met Stress’ chilled eyes and Iskall’s hesitant one. The cookies, he realized, had long since been forgotten on the table beside him. 

“That's what else this is about, actually,” Xisuma added hesitantly. “We’ve decided everyone should be told about this. And since their inclusion into Hermitcraft was… dishonest, everyone should have another vote on whether or not Cub and Scar can be Hermits.”

Iskall blinked. “Is it a maj-”

Loud, cold footsteps abruptly cut him off. Scar flinched, turning to see Ren silently make his way out the door. It closed with a loud click, echoing somberly through the room. 

Scar found himself leaning, almost lying on Cub, who wrapped an arm around him without a word.

“...ority vote?” Iskall finished asking, a note of bafflement seeping through.

“Wha - Ren!” Stress yelled. “Wha’ are ya doing? Come back!”

Ren did not come back. The door remained closed and silent and numbingly, horrifyingly present.

Something like hysteria rose within Scar, paralyzingly choking, and he realized faintly he was shaking-

_Look what you’ve done._

“Scar,” Cub whispered. “It’s alright. Deep breaths, okay?”

The words registered slowly, individually, piercing through the haze like clock hands ticking away in an agonizing circle and he was strung along the tip as a limp, helpless doll, eyes wide and dead and blank and _pleading-_

_This is all your fault._

“I’m sorry.” 

He realized, faintly, that he was mumbling again. “If I - if I hadn’t accepted Wels’ offer none of this would have happened.”

“Wels’ offer?” 

The question echoed in his mind, thunderingly judgemental, overwhelmingly icy, and Scar wondered distantly if this was what players felt like, this litany of dread and terror and pain, swimming through an ocean of cold, hollow numbness, panic seizing, choking, drowning, a tiny, hopeless speck in an unforgiving abyss - 

-if this was what players felt like, the result of the games they played with them, _on them-_

_Why can’t you do anything right-_

“I - I actually don’t know this part either.” 

That was Xisuma. He sounded intrigued.

“Scar,” Cub was shaking him again. 

Cub was holding him up, Scar realized. Cub was murmuring.

“Try to open your eyes, okay? More deep breaths. Focus.”

_Focus._

Where his eyes closed?

...they were.

Fighting weakly against the numbness, Scar slowly opened them

Iskall was staring at him with an expression of concern. Xisuma’s fingers were fluttering guiltily.

Stress’ eyebrows were furrowed crossly.

Cub drew him closer.

It wasn’t outright hostile, Scar managed to console himself. Not yet. 

Ren was still nowhere in sight.

“I was living in a world without players before Kingdomcraft,” he finally choked out. “Wels came and asked me some questions. And… and invited me to join Kingdomcraft. I - he decided I was worth the risk, I suppose.”

He tried to draw himself up again, slowly lifting himself off of Cub’s shoulder.

“You know, I remember Wels being weirdly fascinated with vexes,” Iskall said thoughtfully. “Before Scar joined, he asked us all a lot of questions about the mob. Including Cub, too.”

“He didn’t know I was a vex,” Cub admitted. “After the original Kingdomcraft admin left, no one did.”

“Oh, right. I remember all tha’,” Stress said. Her face scrunched up into one of anger. “Wha’ made him fink that would ever be a good idea?”

Scar flinched. Iskall met his eyes, and leaned forward.

“Well, what _are_ the risks?” they asked. “Cub or Scar acting like they’re coded to. But that’s a risk with Doc, and Jevin, and Cleo. Yes, yes, to smaller and less dangerous degrees, but didn’t Hermitcraft accept that when it first accepted mobs?”

“We didn’ accept that risk wif _vexes_ , Iskall,” Stress snapped. “And ya know we consider members individually, not through… _precedents_.”

“But Scar and Cub _were_ accepted, and they’ve been Hermits for 4 seasons,” Iskall shrugged. “In that time they’ve acted normal enough that most of us never suspected anything. Are you saying you don’t want them here?”

“I - “ Stress frowned, and Scar caught a conflicted frown on her face before she turned away. “I don’t - I...”

Xisuma cleared his throat.

“The establishment we have for removing members is in the case of majority vote. Since the decision for Cub and Scar’s inclusion into Hermitcraft was made without everyone being given all relevant information regarding them, this would be valid grounds for the question of removal. I need to… uh, get both of your statements on the issue. And Ren’s.”

His tone was heavy and apologetic, but there was no regret. Xisuma would be willing to lie all over again, Scar realized. He wasn’t sure whether the fact should comfort or terrify him.

“Literally nothing has changed,” Iskall said. “They’ve been vexes the entire time, and the fact that we know doesn’t make it any different. I don’t see why they shouldn’t stay.”

“It’s about wha’ _can_ happen, Iskall,” Stress snapped. “And ya know a lot o’ other Hermits will disagree wif ya. They’re _vexes_ , not zombies!”

Scar looked down, keeping himself silent. Now, all he could feel was coldness.

“You can’t just say-”

“Stress,” Iskall interrupted. “I know the general consensus about vexes and all that among players. But you have to remember that whatever went on in Scar or Cub’s pasts, a lot of us have done terrible things and don’t regret any of it. I was a professional killer for most of my life, and yet Kingdomcraft agreed to accept me, and Hermitcraft agreed to accept me. Our metric for whether someone can join isn’t how good of a person they are, but rather, how well they'll fit into our community.”

“That’s not wha’ I mean and ya know it, Iskall,” Stress growled.

“We won’t fit well if we begin torturing you,” Scar added quietly. “Stress has a point. We’re mobs, which means by definition we lack the free will players have. It’s - it’s in our code, and since vexes are also glitches, our code is also much more unstable compared to other mobs.”

Iskall turned to them, and Scar saw the same determination in Cub’s eyes blazingly present in Iskall’s own, hard and resolute.

“Both of you are still Hermits, and thus my friends and family,” they said firmly. “I’m not going to pretend the past 3 seasons and Kingdomcraft just never happened. And I’m willing to take the risk if it means both of you can feel safe and wanted here.”

“I - but-” Stress glanced at Xisuma. “X, ya voted in favor of them too, didn’ ya?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “So did Grian and Etho.”

“Of course, of course,” Iskall exhaled. “Of course those two would. What do you say, Stress?”

“I’ll - I’ll hold off on sayin’ anythin’ fa now,” Stress said softly. “‘til I hear from some other hermits. I’m sorry, Scar, Cub. But unlike Iskall, I want ta consider Hermitcraft’s safety first.”

“That’s what I said too,” Scar murmured quietly. Cub pressed closer.

“I understand,” he addressed to them. “And - we need to find Ren.”

“Oh goodness, right,” Xisuma said. “Does anyone know why he just left like that?”

Scar, Cub, and Stress all shook their heads. There was a vague frown on Iskall’s expression as they munched on another cookie.

“He’s had experience with vexes before,” they said. “I don’t know much else, though. I can-” they dusted the crumbs off their vest. “I can go find him.”

“Should we-” Xisuma glanced around hesitantly.

“I think I should talk to him alone first,” Iskall said. “Trust me on this, okay?”

“Alrigh’,” Stress murmured. “This is all so strange…”

Scar continued staring aimlessly as the door clicked shut. Cub placed a hand on his shoulder and he leaned in again, finally managing to ground himself among the now silent, eerie dissonance of his mind.

Strange indeed.

* * *

“Hallo,” Iskall crowed. 

Ren pressed himself further against the wood, remaining silent. Instead of being unnaturally still, however, Ren had a tendency to be unnaturally fidgety with situations like these. His body seemed to sway erratically to a swirling wind, except there was no wind on the jungle’s ground level, so he ended up looking mostly like a vaguely unhinged parrot.

Iskall landed next to him with a thump.

“If you’re going to sit on my tree, then you should answer me,” they huffed.

The silence continued. 

They sighed, sitting down and shaking Ren’s shoulder.

“You need to talk some time, dude.”

“I know,” Ren said quietly. 

“I’d rather it be closer to _now,_ than _later_. Talking _later_ is how this got started, you know?”

There was another long beat of silence.

“Yeah. I understand.” Ren turned to face them, shoulders slumped. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have walked out like that.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here to help with,” Iskall grinned. “You know me! Always so helpful. Like ISK-”

“Right, right. I know.” Ren gave them a small, rueful smile. “I guess - I guess everyone wants to know why I just - left.”

“That would be nice, yes,” Iskall said, raising an eyebrow. “I think Scar had a breakdown or something.”

Ren winced guiltily.

“I - I just.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. There was a pained expression on his face, like he was drudging up a secret long since buried and sworn to darkness. “It was too much for me. All the thoughts and… implications, I guess. I felt like I was - was going to suffocate if I stayed and listened any longer, you know?”

“Why is that?” they asked instead. Ren’s past was one of the lesser known ones among the Hermits - mentions here and there, about traveling around worlds, about never settling down until Hermitcraft. It remained largely shrouded in mystery, which was normally completely fine and also completely normal. Once someone was a Hermit, their past didn’t matter. 

Of course, special situations called for special… questions. Or at least, Iskall was somewhat sure the saying went somewhere along the lines of that.

“Have you ever heard of mob control organizations?” Ren asked. 

“A few. It’s mostly just one organization though, right? The OMC.” Iskall leaned against the bark of his Omegatree. They could see where this was going.

“With a few more smaller, independent ones. But right, the vast majority of the players involved in mob control work under the OMC. I was one of them, and I-” Ren sighed, closing his eyes. “I was part of the Vex Obstruction Sector.”

He briefly glanced away again.

“Go on,” Iskall said. They paused, and tried to sound gentler. “Were you part of the PVE squad? No offence, but you seem too bad at combat for that.” 

...so much for gentleness. 

“Not the PVE squad specifically, though in the vex sector it's not really a squad so much as a loose collection of players who won’t die immediately when facing a vex. There’s no definitive list, since standard player versus environment experience doesn’t help too much against vex magic.” Ren looked rather uncomfortable explaining the whole thing.

Well, Iskall supposed he would, talking about tactics used to kill the likes of Cub and Scar.

“Alright,” they said slowly. “You were part of the Vex Obstruction Sector in the Organization for Mob Control. Do you want to explain more?”

“I - should, shouldn’t I? It’s only fair.” Ren took another deep breath. “It’s not so much the way the - well, I guess I can’t call it anything but killing. The majority of encounters didn’t end with deaths on either side, though. Neither we nor the vexes felt like dying, so we were all as cautious as possible. It was mostly just trying to kick vexes out of a world. Obviously, we couldn’t do it for every world out there, so our services were sold to the highest bidder. A very philanthropic mindset, isn't it?” 

“Ren, I literally can’t stress this enough,” Iskall said, rolling their eyes. “I was an assassin. I killed people for a living. That’s how I made diamonds. In fact, I’d wager most of the Hermits are hardened criminals.”

“Right,” Ren laughed, and his expression darkened. “Of course. What I meant was that… a large portion of my life has been spent towards the _endeavor_ of killing vexes, you know? And I do mean kill - we were actively trying to do so every time. The reason most of the fights never ended in death was because we prioritized our own lives above everything else. Again, not exactly what you would call noble.”

“And?” Iskall asked, raising an eyebrow. They had a feeling they were missing something.

...judging by the mildly frustrated expression on Ren’s face, they were definitely missing something. This was nothing new, though always slightly annoying. 

“I spent most of my life trying to kill vexes, and now I find out two of my friends - my _family_ , are vexes - and hid it from everyone for the past 6 updates!” Ren exhaled, and a tremor seemed to rack his voice. “And all of you were just - just so _casually_ talking about it. Like it was nothing-”

“Well, we weren’t acting like it was _nothing_ ,” Iskall interjected.

“But you and Stress were so - so _calm_ about it all!” he cried. And he clutched at Iskall’s shoulder, a wild, anguished light in his eyes. “And meanwhile I felt like my entire understanding of - of my worldview was tearing to pieces - it was too much to handle, Iskall. I needed to get away. And breathe. And - and-”

“I think you should do that now,” Iskall sighed. “Breathe, I mean.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Ren leaned away, closing his eyes. He collapsed his legs out, hanging them over a ledge on the trunk and leaning back. Slowly, his breath evened out.

“It’s - it’s - what am I supposed to say to Cub and Scar, when I spent most of my life trying to kill their kind?”

“Well, I spent most of my life killing players, but I don’t agonize over what to say to you,” Iskall felt compelled to point out. 

“But - but most of us are players,” Ren said, voice hard and clearly frustrated. “You’re a player too.”

“How is it different from vexes?” Iskall asked. “Their species only matters because of what their code makes them do. But I don’t see whatever…” they paused, searching for the right term. “Whatever… _moral issue_ you might have with your past in regards to them. Is that how you say it? Moral issue?”

“I - I guess you could call it that,” Ren sighed. “Iskall, let me repeat myself again. I’ve spent 4 seasons with them as Hermits together, and only now am I just finding out I killed their kind as a job before I joined. It’s - it’s so messy. I have to... reconcile everything I know about vexes and - none of this fits together!”

“You’re acting like they’ll care,” Iskall pointed out. “Which I doubt. Our pasts don’t matter on Hermitcraft, Ren. Cub and Scar knew what they were getting themselves into when they accepted the invitation.”

“But - but what-” Ren ran a hand over his hair, looking down at the still waters below. “I guess the problem is me. I look at the facts and I can’t - I can’t decide what to make of it. What to make of vexes, I mean. If I’m friends with Cub and Scar, then everything I’ve done before is _wrong_ and I’m just a terrible person, and if the OMC’s mission is justified then why am I friends with them?”

Iskall frowned. The solution seemed simple enough to them.

“Ren, again,” Iskall said. “Assassin, remember? It’s the same reason Cub and Scar won’t care. You can oppose vexes outside Hermitcraft, and still be friends with Cub and Scar here. It’s not like the two actions make you do contradictory things.”

Ren frowned, looking away. He seemed to be in deep contemplation. 

Iskall wished they could do that sometimes. Be in deep contemplation, that was. It seemed like a useful life skill to have.

“I - I suppose,” Ren said. “It’s just - they’re all mobs. And mobs all have the same set of programming.”

“That's like saying killing creepers means you can’t be friends with Doc,” Iskall said, rolling their eyes. “Even if they’re bound by the same set of code, there’s still plenty of variation in the functions the mob code doesn’t specify. It’s why Scar and Cub’s personalities are so different. The inherent code of a mob doesn’t determine _everything_ about their behavior.”

When Ren remained silent, Iskall continued. 

“Look, do you want them to stay? Do you consider them worth it? Are they enough your friends and family?”

“I - I - _yes,_ ” Ren said, and to Iskall’s relief, his tone was certain. “Yes. Absolutely. They’re as much Hermits as anyone else. With everything we’ve all done together, I can’t deny that.”

Iskall nodded.

“Well then, since they are Hermits and since we are loyal to Hermitcraft above any other group, you can do whatever tickles your moral fancy until it negatively affects any part of Hermitcraft, in which case you’ll fight against it instead. It’s that simple. No need to wring yourself out about good or bad or whatever.”

“...that’s how you think, isn’t it?” Ren blinked. “Wow. But I - it makes sense, for us.” 

He took a long, deep breath. “Thanks, Iskall.”

“My pleasure,” Iskall hummed. “Anything for my family. Speaking of which, we should get back. Everyone’s probably still freaking out in my starter base.”

“Right,” Ren said. He stood up, and there was a relieved smile on his face. “Sorry about - all that, I guess.”

“If they haven’t eaten all my cookies, you’re forgiven,” they grinned back. “So let’s hurry up.”

* * *

“Sorry about that, everyone,” Ren said quietly as he and Iskall took a seat. “X, just put my vote in to let them stay.” 

“It’s complicated,” Iskall added when everyone gave them a questioning look. “Ren can explain later, if he wants to. Probably not now.”

Ren nodded, giving them a grateful glance. 

Cub and Scar shared an indecipherable look. Iskall decided to continue eating their cookies. They were a very nice batch this time. Extra chocolate chips were always a good thing.

“...Right,” Xisuma said. “Once everyone has been informed in smaller groups, we’ll have a meeting with everyone.” 

He paused, glancing around. “Stress, you can tell me your vote then.”

“Alrigh’ then,” she muttered, turning away.

“Is there anything else to say before we leave?” Xisuma asked. Iskall shook their head. They’d gone over everything, hadn’t they? Or well, that’s what they thought. Past experience had shown that Iskall wasn’t exactly someone to be trusted with these types of judgement calls.

“I don’t think so,” Cub said. Again, Iskall noted, that look between Cub and Scar was back. 

“Well, that’s that,” Xisuma declared.

“Let’s go, then,” Cub said. There was a tired look in his eyes. “I’m… I’m really sorry, too. I wish things didn’t have to be like this.”

“Don’ we all,” Stress sighed. “Let’s go too, Ren. I have some Hermits ta talk ta.”

Iskall leaned back into their slime couch as Cub and Scar headed out the door, Xisuma, Ren, and Stress following close behind.

Whatever will happen now was up to the other Hermits. They glanced down at their communicator, which had long since been silenced.

_ <ImpulseSV> So, X. _

_ <Xisuma> We’re working on it. You’ll know soon, guys. _

Well, no use dwelling on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear Mojang why did I ever think writing out Stress’ accent was a good idea.
> 
> And um, well. Scar’s mental state is… an improvement? Hmm...
> 
> Reveal chapter! ...I don’t know, did this seem satisfying to you? Or, well, since the fic isn’t over yet and there’s still multiple chapters with multiple reveals left, did you find this chapter… good?
> 
> Gosh why are words so hard. Please tell me what you thought in the comments below! They give me life and motivation! Bye!


	12. Intersection

_ <Xisuma> whispered to <Hypnotized> how close are you to Jevin's base? _

_ <Hypnotized> whispered to <Xisuma> fairly. this is about what you’ve been refusing to tell us, isn’t it? why not a serverwide meeting _

_ <Xisuma> whispered to <Hypnotized> It’s complicated. Just go there, Jevin knows to expect you. xB is coming too _

_ <Hypnotized> ...alright then. if you're sure. _

* * *

Hypno stared at Xisuma, deliberate and unwavering. Scar’s confession rang in his mind. While Jevin and xB gawked at an increasingly fidgeting Scar and impassive Cub, Hypno’s line of sight was focused solely, singularly, on Xisuma.

Their admin.

"Xisuma," he said quietly. "I need to talk to you. Alone."

xB twisted to him, something like confusion in his eyes, but Jevin winced and looked away. 

Hypno stood up. He moved, and found himself passing beneath the doorway outside. The winds were caressing, steady brushes against his body. Glass clinked beneath him, below which dark waters sat still and calm.

“Hypno?” Xisuma called, worry clear.

“Come on,” Hypno replied back. “I’ll wait as long as I need to.”

Xisuma sighed, and Hypno heard the telltale thud of his plated boots as he made his way over.

The ocean air smelled of damp seagrass this day, and it carried the faintest hint of pungent mushrooms. It was a good day on Hermitcraft. A very good day, Hypno would have said, if it weren’t for their current situation at hand.

Jevin’s ocean base ended in a circular shape. He reached the edge and sat down, feet dangling pixels above the water.

Xisuma settled next to him. Hypno’s chest felt tight.

“I’ll be frank,” he said quietly. “Why did you hide something so important from us?”

Xisuma leaned closer towards the deep waters. From the reflecting ocean, Hypno could see his eyes close behind a tinted yellow screen.

“I wanted them to join,” he said softly. “I was curious. And it just didn’t feel right. By all accounts Cub and Scar acted perfectly fine - why deny them shelter here, when they so clearly preferred living with players to whatever vexes normally did?”

Something dark and burning flared inside of Hypno.

“Hermitcraft is not your personal playground to test new ideas, X,” he said, and despite his efforts he couldn’t suppress a wavering tremble in his voice. “Do you realize what you’ve done? You purposefully hid from us information that puts us all in danger - true danger. Vexes have permakill ability, and you just - just ignored all of that because _you were ‘curious’!?_ ” His voice rose as he continued, and by the end Hypno realized he was nearly shouting.

Xisuma sighed. 

And suddenly, Hypno had the urge to reach over and throttle some sense into him - but no, that wasn’t how Hermitcraft did things. He could follow their rules. Unlike, apparently, their own head admin.

“I don’t regret it,” the admin continued. 

Hypno’s fingers twitched. 

“Hermitcraft would be so much less than what it is today without Cub and Scar’s contributions.”

“That’s not - that’s not how this works!” Hypno stood and began pacing around, footsteps clicking on wavy prismarine. “It’s about that principle of it, Xisuma. You know this. You’re our head admin. You’re supposed to know this better than anyone, and yet you broke all standard protocol and agreement just - out of what? Curiosity? Some misplaced sense of justice? You know we don’t do _justice_ or _fairness_ for new members, X. They get vetoed or they don’t.”

Hypno took a deep, shuddering breath. Black tendrils gripped his heart, wrapping to it betrayal and fury and a deep, crushing sadness. 

Hermitcraft had changed, and the potential it could bring to topple their entire system down-

_What happened? Where did it go wrong? Why did I ever leave and let it come to this?_

“I know I broke server protocol,” Xisuma sighed softly. “And I know it went against our established rules. But I can’t say I’m sorry for that decision, however.”

Hypno whirled to him and stamped his foot, shaking. Something dark and furious threatened to burst from his chest, lashingly destructive.

He took a deep breath. He had to be calm. Calm, and truthful.

“Then you shouldn’t be our admin,” he said, voice hard. 

Xisuma flinched. 

The ocean winds picked up into a near forceful surge, and a muted, cloudy shadow swept over them. Hypno maintained his gaze, dark and judging.

“You’re entrusted with this power because you agreed to follow the establishments we created. A failure in compliance means a failure in our trust in you as an authority figure, X.” 

Xisuma was still looking down on the water, silent and still.

“It means - it means we can’t trust you to have our whole interests in mind when you make decisions. But Hermitcraft is a direct democracy, and we can’t have that.”

Xisuma was tall enough that his feet dipped below the surface, and he swirled them around, dragging out ripples that purled through the ocean towards some great unknown beyond.

“And - and if we can’t trust the system our community lives by… what will happen?” Hypno finished quietly.

Xisuma stiffened at the words, and drew himself up. 

“Do you want to become an admin again?” he asked softly. “Head admin, even?”

“Joe’s next in line, isn’t he?” Hypno asked. Xisuma nodded,

His chest felt heavy. It hurt almost, to continue staring at Xisuma and process everything that had been done, that could be done. 

It hurt to think about Hermitcraft’s future, period.

The thorns in his heart dug deeper.

“I - I shouldn’t,” Hypno said. “I’ve been gone for too long. I don’t know the new members well enough. I don’t-”

He broke off, looking away.

“I just want to be able to trust Hermitcraft’s leadership,” he said softly. “You’re a voidwalker as well as our admin. That means normal failsafes won’t work - no matter how hard Joe or Tango or False try, they won’t ever be able to truly oppose you. If you wanted to, you could force control over the entire world. Don’t you see how problematic that is?”

“I - I do,” Xisuma said softly. And that, Hypno could believe. “But what’s done is done. I promise I - I haven’t done anything since. And I won’t do it again in the future.”

“I can’t - I can’t trust you on that,” Hypno said. He wished he could.

Xisuma gave a small, slow nod. He sighed, seemingly drawing himself smaller inwards.

Hypno remembered when their admin was just a young, wandering voidwalker, looking for a place to call home. Everything was so much simpler back then. Generik was in charge of it all - his word was law. But Hypno couldn’t deny the freedom Hermitcraft received after their current system had been developed. 

It was better. It was also so much harder.

“You know I don’t want Cub and Scar to stay,” he said finally. “It’s too much of a risk. I have to consider Hermitcraft first and foremost.”

“You’re not even going to talk to them?” Xisuma asked. But both of them knew the answer.

“It’s not worth it,” Hypno said quietly. Vexes were vexes. It didn’t matter. “You know my stance, Xisuma.” 

He glanced, briefly, at the central building where Jevin and xB still were. 

Xisuma nodded.

“We’ll talk again about this,” Hypno said. “I think I’ll just go now.”

“We will have a meeting with everyone, after we finish telling in smaller groups,” Xisuma said. “Are you coming?”

Hypno looked out onto the horizon.

“There’s no point,” he said. “My mind’s not changing, and the other Hermits can fill me in later. If there’s anything important that only you can tell me…” he looked away, and strapped on his elytra. It hurt to breathe as he continued.

“...I can only hope that you will.”

* * *

Hypno was upset.

xB could see it in the way he walked, stiff and narrowly purposeful. He could see it in the way he talked, like all emotion had been drained from the syllables. 

He could see it in the way he held his face, impassive and implacable, which told both nothing and everything.

xB wasn’t sure what to make of that, however.

Jevin cleared his throat,

“So I guess we’ll just keep talking without them.”

“Oh, right. Vexes.” xB wasn’t quite sure what he thought of this whole thing either. It seems there was a lot he wasn’t sure of, nowadays.

He’d been gone for a long time, and the dynamics of the newer Hermits still eluded him. Granted, Cub and Scar were far from “new” Hermits, but the idea still stood that he didn’t know them anywhere near as well as some other members.

“I’m fine with you guys being Hermits,” Jevin shrugged. xB supposed that wasn’t too surprising. 

“Really?” he asked anyway. It was a prompt, and they both knew it.

“Nothing’s happened so far, and I think Xisuma would slam the banhammer far before anything serious happens,” Jevin said. “But kicking out Hermits for things they _might_ do seems a little too extreme, even if we were lied to about certain details. Most of which was technically Xisuma’s fault.”

“True,” xB mused. Despite the circumstances, Cub and Scar at the very least _had been_ Hermits. 

But the idea of vexes among them left a cold feeling in his stomach. Jevin was right; it was immensely unfair to judge by what they _could_ do. But the coding meant it was almost inevitable. It was like a ticking redstone clock, ready to blow up in their faces in one devastating shock. 

xB wasn’t sure two Hermits were worth the stability of them all. Most didn’t have anywhere else to go, to retreat to if Hermitcraft falls, unlike him.

 _Cub and Scar probably don’t either, though_ _,_ he realized. _Why else would they be here?_

_Does that mean the other vexes kicked them out for not conforming to their standards? That would explain their behavior._

xB wasn’t brave enough to ask those questions. And he hadn’t had any personal encounters with vexes outside of Cub and Scar, no metric to judge anything by.

“I just - I don’t know,” he murmured. “I would want you two to stay if there’s a way to keep the coding in check. But there isn’t.”

“No,” Cub sighed, and xB thought it sounded immensely sorrowful. “Nothing but time and space.”

“To be honest, I don’t think it’s worth it either,” Scar confessed. Jevin gave him a surprised look.

“Scar, I can’t imagine you doing… vex things. With other vexes,” Jevin said. “The image I have of you just doesn’t allow that. Like - I try to think of you being evil in any way and my mind goes blank.”

“That was the - ” Scar broke off, and frowned. “Well, I assure you I very much acted like a vex before Kingdomcraft.” 

There was a despondent note in his tone that twisted something within xB’s heart. Was it sympathy? Fear? Judgement? Once again, he had no idea.

Jevin blinked, appearing intrigued, but after a moment he merely shrugged again.

xB glanced at Scar, wondering what to say.

“You don’t have to decide right now, xB,” Cub said. It was hard to gauge anything out of the neutral way he held himself, almost as unexpressive as Hypno had been. “We’ve talked to Stress, but she hasn’t either. There’s a meeting with everyone after this where you can vote again, and Stress decided she’d talk to other Hermits in the meanwhile.”

“That sounds good,” xB said. It was a surprisingly solid plan. Something he could follow. “Who are you two…” 

He hesitated. “Who’s being told next?”

“We went to Jevin’s because you were relatively close to Iskall’s starter base,” Cub said. “I think Beef and Keralis would be next, then. There’s no particular order.”

From the corner of his eye, xB saw Jevin wince.

“What is it?” Scar asked, evidently having seen it as well.

“It’s - you’ll see,” he said. “Nothing to do with either of them directly, but it just reminded me of something.”

Before anyone could reply, Xisuma’s footsteps rang through the building.

“Sorry,” Xisuma said quietly to Cub and Scar. “Hypno’s voted against you two. He’s not going to the meeting after this either.”

Cub nodded, while Scar closed his eyes. Neither seemed surprised.

“We should hurry up,” Scar said. “The - the sooner we tell everyone, the better.”

“Jevin voted for us to stay, and xB is undecided,” Cub added. 

“Well then... I wish you luck,” Jevin said, and xB found himself nodding. 

“I’ll be at the meeting, and cast my vote then,” he said.

And in a flash, just like that, they were gone, three sparking trails of white in the sky.

xB brought out his own rockets. It was time to find some Hermits to talk to, starting with Stress.

* * *

“Where’s Beef?” 

The question seemed to catch Keralis by surprise, wide eyes darting abruptly to meet them. He dropped a few blocks of concrete and dusted off his hands.

“Beef - uh - he went to Doc and Bdubs’ place,” he said. “Don’t know why. Nothing to do with me, I swear!”

Scar knew Keralis had a tendency to lie about… everything, really, but Xisuma seemed satisfied with the answer. The admin turned, giving them a questioning look.

“Sure,” Cub said, nodding. “It’ll go by quicker, at any rate.”

“Sounds good to me,” Scar agreed. Their conversation with xB and Jevin had been… calm. Surprisingly relaxing, despite everything said. 

“Keralis, can you come with us to Doc and Bdubs?” Xisuma asked. “It’s to talk about what’s happened the past few days - you’ve seen chat.”

“Oh? Is it bad? You have that weird look on your face again, Shishwammy,” Keralis mused. There was that calculating gaze again, the one Keralis was so well known for. The gaze that could trail a crawling tingle down nearly everyone’s spine, though Scar had personally never felt unnerved himself. It did make him wonder what Keralis had done before Hermitcraft, and in between his absences. 

“It - depends,” Xisuma sighed. “Is that a yes?”

“Sure sure, Shishwammy,” Keralis said. “To the east, now?”

Scar readied his rockets.

To the east it was, towards the looming, ever captious figure of Mount Goatmore.

* * *

As they glided down towards the mansion split in tween, it began to rain. A slight drizzle at first, followed by an increasingly quickening shower.

By the time they neared the second floor on Doc’s side, there was a full on thunderstorm. It was like bucketfuls of water were splashing against every inch of Scar’s body. He stumbled into the mansion with a wincing expression, rain still pounding against his back.

“That doesn’t look comfy,” Beef said, poking his head out from the staircase leading down. “Doc and Bdubs are in the casino basement. Maybe you guys can shut up their incessant arguing.”

They gratefully took the offer, Scar wiping water off his hair as they hastily descended. He wondered if he should feel more nervous. 

He _did_ feel nervous. It was a dull, muted nervousness now, as if the downpour had dampened its previous vividity.

Whether that was a good or bad thing remained to be seen. 

Scar wondered if he was just making excuses. 

Descending down the basement stairs, freezing wet wind gradually warmed to a dry, comfy atmosphere. Doc and Bdubs were playing what appeared to be poker in the back corner of the casino, though it was the strangest game of poker Scar had ever seen. A Hermit was painted with intricate detail on every card, and a giant pile of potions were stacked precariously in the middle of the table.

Doc smirked, nudging a weakness potion over to Bdubs. He began downing the entire thing with a mildly reluctant look.

Xisuma cleared his throat.

Both jumped, sending clinking bottles tumbling around the table amongst a flurry of cards. 

“I’m not going to ask,” Xisuma sighed. “But we need you two to pause your game for a little bit. It’s about what’s happened the past few days.”

“Oh? Finally decided to spill?” Doc turned the chair to face them. “About time.”

Cub took a seat on a nearby couch first, Scar flopping down next to him. Despite only a brief minute in the storm, he still felt like a soggy, drowned kitten.

The nervousness jumped again. Scar pushed it down and took a deep breath. By now, he had realized it was most simple to say everything as soon as possible.

“Me and Cub are vexes,” Scar listed, trying to wipe his mind of internal thoughts. “We tried not to do magic this season, but it didn’t work out and the past few days were us trying to sort out me having a relapse and trying to destroy this world, but we’re fine for now. Just now, not later, which is a problem and we agreed there should be a vote for whether me and Cub should be allowed on Hermitcraft because Xisuma lied to everyone about us when we were first being considered as members, and according to him the procedure for kicking someone out is if a majority agree to it so that’s why we’re here.”

For a few precariously hanging moments, everyone was silent.

“Could - could you say that again, but slower?” Beef asked blankly. “I didn’t quite catch-”

“You’re a vex?” Bdubs interrupted, eyes wide. As one of their newer additions - or well, newest to Scar - he didn’t know Bdubs all that well. But there was a careful, guarded way he phrased the question that ticked off a foreboding sense of apprehension within him.

“Me and Cub,” Scar confirmed. He forced himself to stay still.

“That - Xisuma?” Keralis glanced rapidly between their admin and Scar, eyes even wider than they usually were. “Why, Xisuma?” 

It was that familiar betrayed tone, the same one Hypno had carried ever so slightly when asked Xisuma to speak in private. Xisuma seemed to shrink under the wounded expression. 

“I-”

He looked stricken. 

_This isn’t a particularly good day for him either,_ Scar thought with a pang of sympathy. He didn’t know exactly what Hypno had said to him, but based on their histories he thought he could make some rather educated guesses.

“Vexes,” Doc repeated, flat and… soft.

He was scared, Scar realized. There was fear lying beneath the tough exterior Doc always tried so hard to maintain. A fear Scar had gotten quite closely acquainted with during his time at Area 77, when Doc first discovered the time machine and had a meltdown about the voidly foreign magic emanating from it.

“I’m sorry,” Scar said quietly to him. “I know you don’t - don’t enjoy surprises like this.”

To say _don’t enjoy_ was an understatement. Convincing him to let go of Grian’s mysteries had been less of an uphill battle and more of a battle that required Scar to climb upside down across a smooth iron ceiling with nothing but his toes.

“This is too much for me,” Beef muttered. “Why do I feel like I just slept through 2 entire seasons worth of events?’

He paused. “Oh, wait.”

Bdubs was still staring. His eyes were wider than moons in the sky. They burned with a stabbing familiarity.

Scar felt his world tilt.

“Bdubs?” Xisuma asked softly.

“You - you can’t - _you know what happened last time!”_ Bdubs whirled to him, fire thundering across his shaking body. His eyes contained more single-minded attack than the Nether’s blazes.

He knew. He did know, hadn't acknowledged it, but he did-

Scar managed a glance at Cub, righting himself. He couldn't afford to lose focus. Not now. Not again. Not when there was so... _much._

With a slow, heavy effort he gradually stilled his shaking body once again. Silenced the screams in his mind to a muffled cloud battered like cave bound bats, loosely bundled and vaguely defined with the shape of his panic. Smoothed the tumultuous winds around it all to a surface as pristinely sheened as flowing molten quartz, a wall of composure and reflection.

Cub nodded back to him. There was a tight look in his eyes that Scar understood all too well. He placed a hand on Cub’s shoulder and grounded them both in a precarious stability. 

Cub had given him so much already… but he couldn’t rely on support forever. He had to build his own tower of fortitude, one way or another.

Scar clutched onto the thought, and turned back to Bdubs. 

_You know what happened last time._

He did. 

He wished he didn’t.

_“Did you hear the news?”_

_“There’s always news to be heard,” BadTimes said breezily. “Do be more specific, Pantomime.”_

_“Well,” Pantomime smiled, teeth sharp and grin wide. “The whispers carry news that Mindcrack has fallen.”_

_“Interesting,” he hummed. Which it_ was; _but not surprising in any way, really. Mindcrack’s demise had been in development for a rather long while, and vexes didn’t even have anything to do with most of it._

_“Many members left permanently even before we invaded, and certainly all the rest that could fled afterwards,” Pantomime continued. “To think none of us even orchestrated all this. Bit of a shame, really.”_

_BadTimes wondered, occasionally, if they thought the same way. When wars broke out between vex mansions, when the occasional careless slip led to one of their own's demise, did players lament their exclusion to the carnage? The chance to slay those hated vexes? Perhaps._

_But the more BadTimes considered the idea, the less certain he was of it. Players were coded with explicit free will. They had lives beyond obsessing over another species. Vexes did not have that…_

Privilege. Luxury.

_He shouldn’t be thinking like this._

_“Any word on where they might have escaped to?” BadTimes asked, some subconscious instinct prompting him to speak. He kept his expression arranged in one of calm neutrality, with the barest hint of interest. It was best to play it safe, when he was as vulnerable as this._

_“Some, we’ve been able to track.” Pantomime shrugged, which meant their mansion was most definitely not sharing the information. "Etho and Docm77, two of the most prominent members, seem to have disappeared with the least amount of trail. We suspect there was voidwalker magic involved in transporting them to a private world, so do be on the lookout.”_

_Voidwalker magic. Once upon a time, BadTime would have peaked in interest at the challenge. Now, all he could feel was a familiar, tratorious weariness._

_“We certainly will be," he said carefully._

_“We have a claim to BdoubleO100, however,” Pantomime said, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Their voice dipped into a decrescendo as they continued. “There’s a very special project, surrounding him. Or rather… his brother.”_

_“Brother?” BadTimes asked. He racked his mind, trying to grasp the name from the depths of his increasingly shifting memories. It somehow eluded his hunt, however, and after a few more seconds he internally resigned himself._

_There was something wrong with him, BadTimes knew. He wasn’t quite sure how to solve it just yet._

_Pantomime regarded him with a curious look, calculation clear within their depths. Against it, BadTimes maintained his fathomless wall of indifference._

_At least that, he could still get right._

_“Pungence,” Pantomime said. “You know, of course, that my mansion was among the first to breach Mindcrack’s firewalls. Most of the players escaped the initial round of capture, but we did make some interesting acquisitions. You should have seen BdoubleO100’s eyes when we dangled Pungence in front of him.”_

_“Going for the kill that early?” BadTimes raised an eyebrow. “Or did you…”_

_“His mind is surprisingly malleable,” Pantomime chuckled. “Didn’t take too much effort to break him at all, unlike the other Mindcrack members we obtained. All the other players became so delightfully furious when we showed off his party tricks. You can imagine BdoubleO100’s delicious pain, then?”_

_“Of course,” BadTimes said. That most divine blend of despair and fury when a player sees a former loved one broken - what vex can forget that?_

_What vex would_ want _to forget that?_

_“We wanted to capture him as well, feed on that sorrow a little more before we make a matching set. But alas,” Pantomime sighed. “He slipped from our grasp. We haven’t caught trail of him since.”_

_“Are there any free players left in the original Mindcrack world?” BadTimes wondered if he should even be asking. Then, he wondered why he was wondering that question._

_Something within him scraped uncomfortably._

_“Not that I know of, as we only managed to surprise a few. The rest fled to other protected realms,” Pantomime said. “Normally it’s not our style, you know, to completely overtake a world. But Mindcrack is - was - ever so influential to player culture. Besides, the players themselves did so much of Mindcrack's stabbing that we had to compensate somehow."_

_They paused to chuckle. "At least I can claim my mansion as the one to deal the final blow.”_

_BadTimes tried to think of other influential worlds, communities of players that could fill Mindcrack’s role as a model in organization and structure - and came up blank. The answers existed, floating at the edge of his knowledge, a tantalizing, yet unreachable torch against the night sky that was his current state of mind._

_There was something horribly, treacherously wrong with him. BadTimes stamped out a tiny fluttering of fear._

_It flared back, brighter than ever, a flame for all the wrong uses and all the wrong reasons._

_“Right. How riveting,” he said, miming a yawn. “But I do have a mansion to manage, and I believe they’re expecting me back soon enough.”_

_His strategy for unwanted situations hadn't failed him yet._

_“I hope this was a most tasteful stay for you, BadTimes. We are most honored you choose to visit.” Pantomime dipped their wings in a sign of respect, and BadTimes consoled himself that at least he was doing something right._

_Unless this was a gesture of mockery he was missing, which would be_ extremely _concerning. It wasn’t Pantomime’s style to challenge higher ranking vexes, but he could never be sure._

_“I enjoyed it greatly,” BadTimes choose to respond with. “May the fear flow freely for your mansion, Pantomime.”_

_“May it flow freely for yours as well,” Pantomime said._

_BadTimes just barely stopped himself from muttering “I might have too much of it right now.”_

_He had some serious thinking to do._

_And as vexes knew, thinking was so very, very dangerous._

“Mindcrack,” Scar whispered softly, and Bdubs jerked to meet his eyes, shaking. “Bdubs, you were-”

“Oh go on,” he snarled. “I bet you know _all_ about it. It was such a _huge_ accomplishment to you vexes, wasn’t it? Hottest gossip of the town. Oh, big pretty world, lots of important players, let’s ruin it all for everyone!”

Bdubs threw his arms up in some grand gesture of feigned ovation. Scar saw the faintest glimmer of tears in his eyes before he turned away, concealing his face from the view of him and Cub. 

Doc reached over and awkwardly wrapped him in a hug. A few moments later, Keralis and Beef joined in.

Scar startled as Cub placed a hand on his shoulder, the question clear in his eyes.

He shook his head. It wasn’t worth antagonizing them further. Cub nodded, and leaned away.

“Xisuma.” Bdubs’ whispered carried to Scar’s ears, soft and accusing. “How did this happen? I thought - I thought Hermitcraft-”

“Hermitcraft isn’t Mindcrack,” Xisuma said quietly.

Everyone knew what happened to Mindcrack, in the end. What no one could agree on was why it got there.

“It’s - I don’t think we can blame it entirely on vexes, Bdubs,” Doc said. He gave Scar swift, warning glare before placing a hand on Bdubs’ shoulder. “Think about it rationally. There were the disagreements about expansion, worlds, and branding already - me and Etho left before it all, as did-”

“But neither of you were there for it,” Beef said darkly. “You don’t understand, Doc - things were breaking apart already, but that invasion…” he trailed off and closed his eyes, a shudder of horror passing through him in a way Scar was all too familiar with. "Even if it wasn't the deciding factor in Mindcrack's downfall, it's something no one ever deserves to experience."

“Right. That,” Doc said, narrowing his eyes. “I left before it happened, but I heard-”

“It wasn’t pretty,” Beef said. “The best way I can describe it is… mercilessly torturous. Most of us left on time, of course, but some - Pungence-”

Bdubs let out another strangled noise. 

“They took Pungence away,” he hissed. “And strung him up in some puppet show for everyone to see. His eyes were - they were so blue. He followed all those commands like all the life was sapped out of him - which it _was-_ ”

Cub gave him a helpless look.

Scar bit his lip. It didn’t draw blood. He wondered if he wished it did.

“Vexes didn’t just kill Pungence, Doc,” Bdubs said, his voice suddenly hard. “They killed Mindcrack, and we all know it. We were - the rest of us were going to continue on the world just fine, before they showed up. It wasn't the fame that mattered, it was the community. And they ripped it all away.”

His face whipped to Scar and Cub with a glare of disgust and fury.

Neither of them flinched. 

Rejection, questions, uncertainty, those had shaken Scar to his very core, but this - this hatred was far too familiar to leave any physical impression.

But for the first time, he had no idea how to respond. He couldn’t laugh, or joke, or mock, or roll his eyes indifferently. He could only sit there, endure, and offer downcast eyes. 

Vexes were taught how to talk for a number of different purposes - but comfort and consolation were not among them. One would think he would know, after so long on Hermitcraft, surrounded by the most supportive players he'd ever had the luck of knowing - but all Scar could conjure up was a look of hesitance.

“I - I can’t say sorry on someone else's behalf,” Scar said finally. He glanced to Cub, who sat motionless, eyes glassy and unfocused. Something painful twisted within him, once again. “And neither can Cub.”

“Oh, but you were laughing with the others, I know you were,” Bdubs snapped. Every part of him shook with seething emotion, pure and wild and fiercely overwhelming. “They all were, I heard it, that stupid, maddening _laughter_ , it’s _burned_ into me and I’ll never forget it, and I’ll never forgive what you’ve all done.”

“Oh, Bubbles,” Keralis whispered. He had remained silent through the exchange, eyes gradually dimming as more and more words were tossed to the gales of intensity that swept around them.

“I understand,” Scar said quietly. “I can’t - this is Hermitcraft. I can’t force you to do anything.”

“Tell that to my brother,” Bdubs growled bitterly. 

Scar remained silent. Cub pressed closer to him.

“Why, Xisuma?” Doc finally asked. “Why would you let them… in? Why did you allow this conflict to happen in the first place?”

Their admin closed his eyes. Scar thought he might have glimpsed the briefest hint of a tremble. 

“Curiosity,” Xisuma said softly. “And foolishness, perhaps. But given everything they’ve done for Hermitcraft, I can’t say I regret it.”

“You-”

“Screw your curiosity!” Beef suddenly snapped. “How could you not - not _realize?_ This is so dangerous. For all of us. For Hermitcraft.”

Doc glanced up at the words with a hesitant look, but before he could speak another voice cleared his throat.

“Mindcrack was already in shambles before the vexes took over the world,” Etho said, leaning against the wood frame of the staircase. “I think you’re simplifying a series of deeply complex events, Bdubs.”

He was. But there was an argument there, that Bdubs was justified in doing so given the circumstances. In the real world, logic could only hold up so well against trauma - Scar had seen it all too often. After all, with respawn ability, the importance of mental health far outweighed the physical.

He leaned further against Cub, slowing his breaths. 

“Etho? Where did you-” Keralis glanced around. “Well, I guess it’s not that much of a surprise.”

“How long have you been here?” Beef asked.

“Not too long. Enough to understand the gist of things,” Etho said. “With all the inevitable discussion around Mindcrack, I figured I should come too. I assume most of you are voting… against Scar and Cub?”

“ _What are you implying_ ,” Bdubs’ voice darkened. 

“You didn’t,” Beef whispered, a numb look on his face.

“I voted for them to stay,” Etho said quietly. “They deserve it.”

“How can you - _how can you say that?”_ Bdubs shot up from his seat. The resulting rattle sent cards flying across pale green carpet. “What they did to us-”

“-I know you weren’t there,” Beef interrupted, voice pained. “But you have to understand what vexes do, Etho.”

Keralis closed his eyes, burying his face into his hands. Xisuma looked away.

“I know what they can do,” Etho said firmly. “But Cub and Scar have brought nothing but good to Hermitcraft so far. You can’t make a generalization based on one experience.”

“It’s not one experience,” Doc frowned. “You know it’s what vexes do, Etho. It’s commonly documented knowledge.”

“It’s also commonly documented knowledge that creepers are only driven by the instinct to blow players up,” Etho said tersely.

“Do you even _care_?” Bdubs stalked over, until the distance between him and Etho had shrunken almost entirely. The storm in his eyes flashed as Etho stayed still, unmoving, resolute. “Have you forgotten Mindcrack already? Don’t you have any loyalty at all?”

Oh.

Oh no. 

_Oh no._

_Do something,_ Scar thought panickedly. _You have to do something._

“I cared about Mindcrack to its very end,” Etho said, an eye twitching. “But Mindcrack is gone, and I’ve long since accepted that. I can’t let its legacy shadow my choices, and I don’t think any of you should either.”

“That’s - that’s so like you,” Bdubs said, fists clenched. “Always so eager to forget. You don’t care about allegiances at all, do you? Mindcrack was just some place to live, some expendable world for your enjoyment, for you to come and go as you please. Just like Hermitcraft is.”

“Now-” Doc began warningly, but Etho quickly cut him off.

“I _do_ care,” Etho said slowly, and there was the faintest twitch in his fingers. “Which is why I’m logically weighing the benefits and risks of Cub and Scar staying on Hermitcraft, instead of basing things off _personal experience.”_

 _“Your logic doesn’t understand anything_ ,” Bdubs spat, voice cracking. “You don’t get it at all. It was never about our guidance or popularity or principle, it was about our _community._ You can argue ‘til the moon rises about what broke Mindcrack’s influence, but it was undeniably the vexes that broke Mindcrack’s soul. Without them, a number of us would still be living on those fields, peaceful and content with simply creating together.”

Scar frantically racked his mind as the debate continued - except debates were civilized and structured, and this was - it seemed like it, but there was something so very _wrong_ beneath-

“The logic understands all the fallacies in your argument,” Etho bristled. He took a step forward. “The assumption that Cub and Scar will bring anything even close to the same effect of what came to Mindcrack. Your slopes are slipperier than my ice shop-”

“Oh, and I supposed you’d like to see how it all plays out like some grand social experiment,” Bdubs scowled.

Scar could see where this was going, tracing the path as he’d done so many times. The sight of opposing sides, increasingly insistent voices, tension thickening, coalasing, viscously pouring into the mold of conflict until it suffocated the reason out of every word, emotion strained like wires to the point of breaking.

No. No, this couldn’t be, this couldn’t really happen, even if it constantly shadowed his mind, his eternal nightmare. But it was. Haunting the recesses of his waking conscience, a phantom borne of fear and dread, and he could only watch-

Cub shuddered, next to him, and Scar’s breath hitched.

_“You’re strong enough to make it through - and so are the other Hermits.”_

_So are the other Hermits._

_You don’t give Hermitcraft enough credit._

Scar dragged himself taller, straighter, forced himself to watch, he could, he had too-

“Guys-” Doc began again, while Xisuma glanced around them, expression flashing from lost to alarmed.

“ _Social experiment?_ You really think I-”

 **_“̴̏S̸̡̐T̵͈͂O̵̖͌P̶̥̆ ̴̯̂I̶̛̗T̵̾!̵̇”̵_ **

Scar was, suddenly, extremely conscious of the stares pinned to him, singularly focused and demanding of explanation.

“Arguing like this will accomplish nothing but more division,” he said. His voice was surprisingly steady. 

_Don’t think about it._

“Bdubs, if that invasion really is burned into your mind, then you should know better than to fall in this trap a second time.”

For a brief, terrifying moment, Scar feared he had gone too far - but when Bdubs finally moved, it was simply to press his lips into a thin, hard line and step back.

Etho turned away, expression unreadable.

Doc cleared his throat.

“We should just tell Xisuma our vote and move on,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically subdued. “I think Scar is right. This isn’t getting us anywhere. We can - we can talk about this later, when we’ve all had more time to think.”

“Well, Xisuma knows what I… _think_ _._ ” Bdubs’ words were said quietly, and dripping with thick, viscous contempt.

Scar closed his eyes. It was what he wanted, yes - but the words still carved a jagged slash within him, deep and painfully icy.

“Me too,” Beef said. 

Doc glanced at Etho.

“I - you really don’t think…?”

“I don’t,” Etho said quietly. “You of all Hermits should understand.”

“Vexes are different,” Doc said. “You know this. I can’t - I’m sorry. Bdubs and Beef are my family. Hermitcraft is my family. I can’t let anything risk it.”

He turned to Xisuma. “I don’t think they should stay either.”

Etho’s eyes were a fleeting port of many things. Frustration, fear, anger, sadness - each came as quickly and quietly as it left, until even Scar found himself wondering whether he had imagined it.

“I see your decisions are all final,” was all he said. “I - I’m sorry I came.”

Bdubs sighed, and with it came a rush of defeated tiredness. He met Scar’s eyes briefly, something like resignation settling inside of them - but just as quickly he turned away and leaned on Doc’s shoulder.

Keralis glanced around, and his gaze settled on Scar as well.

Scar remained silent.

“I’m sorry too,” Keralis said softly, and he turned to Xisuma. “I don’t know. Hermitcraft has never had standards for this kind of thing. But - but I have to support Bubbles, Shishwammy, you know I do. And I have to take their word on Mindcrack too.”

He returned Scar and Cub an apologetic look, eyes somehow even wider than usual. There was regret pooling there - regret, and conflict, and a deep, inky well of sorrow not unlike Scar’s own.

Scar walled himself off from it. He shouldn’t - he couldn’t.

_There was a thing to note about vexes._

_Their nature yearned for chaos and misery._

_Their magic fed off pain and sorrow._

_“What happens if we don’t get enough?” BadTimes asked. He was small, recently spawned and newly named, tiny enough to snuggle and sleep in an upturned helmet._

_“We are made of magic, and sustained by magic,” the elder responded. BadTimes did not yet know the intricacies of who she was - only that she taught him, guided him, and kept him safe. “Do you remember what happens when we are cut off from it?”_

_“Like - like what you said players did to DarkDreams,” BadTimes said. “A void being put special magic on him and then he couldn’t use his magic, and his mind got all weird and later he took an arrow and stabbed himself until he died.”_

_“Yes,” the elder sighed. “A vex who cannot find sorrow is a vex without magic, and a vex without magic is a starving vex. And remember what starving vexes are?”_

_“Dead vexes,” BadTimes chirped back, pleased he had remembered from a previous lesson._

_The elder nodded._

_“Either as a final act borne of their madness and desperation, or literal starvation as their magic depletes and their code withers away. This is why we must always be our most careful around players, BadTimes. You can never be sure how our meals may turn this reality against us.”_

Scar tried to focus his eyes again. 

_“What is that portal?” Havoc demanded. Something like panic rose in his voice. “Where are you going?”_

_“Somewhere,” BadTimes said flatly. His chest ached. “Don’t expect to see me soon. Or ever again.”_

_“But how will you-”_

_“I’ll manage,” he replied._

Even then, he hadn’t believed it.

“I think…” Scar swallowed. “I think we’re done here.”

Xisuma nodded silently. He stood up and gestured at the stairs. 

The heavy, drowning drum of rain was gone, he realized. The outside would be cool and breezy, the air traced with the tang of rippling cliffside rivers. Scar allowed himself a moment of respite in the imagery.

“We should go,” he whispered quietly. A few moments passed.

Cub gently pulled him up.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think so too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New reigning champion for longest chapter! 6952 words, that's almost 7k. Wow. I wrote all that?
> 
> And I keep saying this, but this is the chapter I'm most hesitant about so far. Lots of... uncertain stuff, in the way I wrote the actions and reactions and all that jazz. Thoughts? Comments? Comment! Comment. Mhm. Doo keep in mind this isn't the last of some characters' development, though. I did have to plan this with the Mayoral Arc in mind...
> 
> Pungence is an actual Youtuber, and Bdubs’ brother. He was, ~~very briefly, a member of Hermitcraft in S1~~ (okay I was thinking of Bdubs when I wrote that nvm he was part of S2 also) and was part of the Mindcrack Fan Server, which he made videos of. He stopped playing Minecraft years ago, or at least stopped with videos about them. Obviously, creative liberties have been taken with this information.
> 
> Am… am I laying it a bit too thick with the made up sayings? Maybe? At least it’s not straight up conlang yet.
> 
> Joe, Tango, False, Impulse, Scar, and Cub are all admins on Hermitcraft (there may be more, but these are the ones I know of), since it would be a bad idea to have admin ability only in Xisuma’s hands. This is true for the actual server, mind you, though the idea of both isn’t as much about trust and more about “just in case something happens to Xisuma.” Hypno does a lot of behind the scenes stuff for Hermitcraft too, like maintaining the website, even when he wasn’t playing. Not sure if he is an admin as of now, though it’s fair to assume he was one in the past. 
> 
> Obviously Cub can’t be an admin in this fic because he’s a mob, but it still applies to the others. Voidwalkers are different from admins, but a player can be both. Hypno was once an admin in this AU - he just stopped being one when he left and didn’t ask for the position again when he rejoined.


	13. Expectations

“Do you think I messed that up?” Scar asked quietly, scanning the area below. They had been resting in the maw of his Chest Monster for a few minutes now, while Xisuma had decided to go… somewhere.

A maze of shops sprawled out before them. No sign of other Hermits.

“I think…” Cub had a handful of grainy blue powder in his hands. They slowly sifted through his fingers as he rippled them back and forth. “I think you did the best you could."

Scar looked down. Something fractured inside of him, at himself. It burned like cauterized wires, razor-sharp and keenly raw. Frustration, perhaps. Akin to, but quite.

His bones felt like iron, draggingly heavy. He closed his eyes. 

"It wasn't the best I could do," he said. "It'll never be the best I can do."

"You can't always set perfect standards for yourself," Cub said quietly. "And for what it's worth, I think very few hermits could have handled that as well as you did."

Scar’s mind seemed to retain that suffocating tension, as if he could still feel those dark and bitter stares stabbing into him. 

That feeling twisted searingly in his chest again. He didn’t know what to make of it. 

“That’s not true,” he said. 

“It is,” Cub said simply. He sounded so sure. 

Uncertainty threaded Scar’s mind. Why him? He should have been the least qualified Hermit to tackle that situation, assuming he could be considered a Hermit at all.

Cub’s previous words flashed in his mind again. He was too tired to push them down. They forced coexistence with his own thoughts, clashing in a cloudy, jumbling haze.

"I didn’t know what to do," Cub said, pressing on. "Not even Xisuma did, Scar. That was such an unenviable position to be in, and you still managed it so well. I always admired that about you."

"What…" Scar bit his lip and looked up, searching for _something_ in Cub’s expression. He was missing some point, he knew. 

Cub regarded him with a curious look. "To always know what to say. For any situation, it seems. Besides Joe, I've never met anyone as familiar with words as you."

"I'm not familiar at all," Scar protested. 

To match… Joe? The notion was absurd. He had neither the vocabulary nor the eloquence, not to even mention his tendency to avoid the spotlight like lava. 

His words were just… all over the place. Some part of his initial awkwardness around such a friendly environment having never shed, yet another strike against him as a vex.

 _As a vex_. 

Something curled uncomfortably in his throat. 

"I'm talking about… socially, Scar," Cub said. "This isn't the first time you've diffused a situation like this. There's a reason we ask you to play referee in the Civil War."

"But - I'm not _supposed_ to be like this," Scar said, voice cracking. He _wasn’t._ Vexes weren’t meant to understand it, not like this, and certainly nothing he was taught gave him the… _ability-_

-it was wrong. It was all wrong, but even considering the possibility sent the foundations of his understanding crashing beneath each other, snapping and crumbling into a turbulent disarray. 

Vexes didn’t _coexist_ with players, not really - _couldn’t -_ they were unable to sympathize, to comfort-

 _Is that so true?_ His mind whispered back. 

He couldn’t remember the wording of the code, exactly. It wasn't like most vexes were eager to see the strings of numbers and letters that made them who they were. But the specifics - did any of the records, credible ones, at least, ever stated that particular part as being true?

He couldn’t remember. It could be an assumption. 

Scar stared at Cub. Cub was… Cub was proof, and of course, Scar had never doubted his ability to understand. 

It was an assumption. An assumption made by players and vexes alike.

 _Contradictions_ , he thought numbly. 

Scar would have found it all ironically amusing, once upon a time. Some subconscious part of him still laughed, dry and mocking. _This is what happens when you refuse to acknowledge what you don’t like acknowledging, Scar. Have some common sense here. Think._

“You _are_ ,” Cub said quietly. "No Hermit knows how others think and feel as well as you do. And - and it makes sense."

Scar remembered how he had known, watching Bdubs. The mere principle of the situation burning a warning into his terrified mind. He’d seen it so many times, after all.

_It makes sense._

"It... does," he whispered - and then he wondered if he should feel sick at the idea. That the same knowledge he used to inflict so much pain was also freeing him from the consequences of it.

His previous life _did_ teach him something useful after all. 

He looked away, eyes stinging.

“Don’t always blame yourself, Scar,” Cub said. Scar could feel his stare, a laser of adamance pointed at his mind. “We can’t help the circumstances we’re given.” 

He could tell. Of course - Cub always could.

“We can still make our own choices, though,” Scar whispered. “And even after all that, I didn’t tell any of them whether I would actually stay.”

“You still want to…” Cub paused. Scar heard something shuffling. “Leave?” 

He didn’t sound terribly surprised. But the ring of hollowness twisted Scar’s heart yet again. 

“I don’t know.” 

He had expected a few Hermits to allow them to stay, but hearing Etho’s _excitement_ at the idea had been downright disconcerting. Not to mention how unequivocally supportive Iskall and Ren were.

On the other hand… Bdubs’ outrage still haunted his mind. It was justified. The reasoning was justified. Scar should not be on Hermitcraft, and if everything were fair Xisuma would never have sent him the invitation in the first place.

Cub shifted quietly. Whatever the decision turned out to be, leaving was still a glittering promise in the distance of Scar’s mind. 

A promise of peace. Of safety. Of a conscience put to rest.

His heart suddenly felt as though it was trying to push itself out of him. Like some rejection of everything Scar had done. 

_But it’s fine_ , he told himself. _It’s fine._

He considered his options. He could leave. He wanted to leave, perhaps.

_Everything’s fine for me._

He glanced back at Cub.

_Nothing’s fine for him._

Guilt clawed itself from its recesses once again. Cub wanted him to stay. Cub--

“Cub! Scar!”

Scar twisted himself abruptly out of his thoughts, and looked down.

The silhouette of False was striding towards the Chestmonster, eclipsed by the blinding sun behind her. From the gold-tinted angle she looked every bit like the Queen of Hearts and Body Parts.

 _Enforcer_ , she had once been referred to as, in some world now long dead. Scar recognized it as a fitting description. 

False was so… controlled. And demanding of control. One of the few Hermits who more often brought order instead of chaos. It reflected in every way she moved and talked, always so precise and purposeful. Each act carefully considered before realization. 

One of the foundational anchors in Hermitcraft’s stability. And False immersed herself in the role well, whether it be seriously or not. 

Right now, her gait was fluid and fast, but stilted in a way not unlike endermen. Movements crafted for a display of confidence and command, Scar recognized. 

“Hello, False,” Cub called. He leaned forwards and slipped over the Chestmonster’s edge. Scar watched him narrow into a glide, landing smoothly on the cobblestone path below.

False nodded to him, and tilted up to meet Scar’s eyes. 

Scar willed himself not to stiffen at the electric flickers in her eyes, a blue that searched to pierce the depths of his soul.

A clear inquiry - and warning.

Without hesitation, Scar flung himself off the edge and rocketed down to meet her.

“Hello,” False said as he righted himself. “Isn’t it such a fine day?”

“Sure,” Cub said, and she abruptly rolled her eyes.

“I assume you know?” Scar found himself asking. It was merely a pretense of formality - of course she already knew. Word traveled fast on Hermitcraft, even if certain members never bothered to hear it. 

“Right. That.” Something deeply unhappy shadowed her movements as she took a step back. 

Scar willed himself to remain calm. Collected. Composed. He imagined the cloudless expanse above and stretched it out around him, light and free and blue as cornflowers. 

He couldn’t afford to keep losing grip on reality. 

_Deep breaths. In and out_. It was almost imperceptible.

False was regarding them in equal measure. Cub seemed to give nothing away either, but Scar caught the way he tensed as False continued.

“I was showing TFC around the shopping district when Stress and xB came by talking about it. They told what you told them, basically. It’s...”

False sighed, and her posture slumped the tiniest bit. Scar realized, for once, he was seeing her let her guard down. He briefly wondered why she had gone through all the trouble.

“It’s a bit of a mess to figure out. But I think both of you already know our answer.”

* * *

“You came from a combat-based world, didn’t you?” Cub asked. He’d recalled having that conversation with her some distant time ago. It was one which never quite sat well in his mind, with its implications - the idea that players would deliberately trap other players in a world where danger twisted around them at every turn, in one horrifying way or another.

It was a hypocritical unease to have, that much was true. 

"Spawned into it, yes. I was one of the main enforcers in that world,” False said, leaning against a barrel. “The sole admin didn’t allow anyone to leave for quite some time. Of course, then the vexes came, and some sort of revolution happened too, but at that point I was just too desperate for the portal to care.” 

“Right,” Cub exhaled. Scar remained unexpressive, but his shoulders might have slumped the tiniest bit. In disappointment? Or relief?

Their previous conversation had never been resolved. Cub wasn’t sure whether he wanted to bring it up again. 

TFC gazed at them all wordlessly. They had met up with him in Grian’s barge, quiet and stout as ever. Noontime sunlight found its way through the cracks, illuminating the meticulously lacquered walls. It made for an oddly peaceful scene.

It certainly didn’t feel as though there was palpable tension around them, each glancing at the others with level, calm eyes, not in any familiar sense. It wasn’t a situation of conflict, so much as uncertainty. Like they were on some scale balanced as delicately as the universe, where a single new word could send them clattering down into a great unknown. 

Some unknowns had to be explored eventually, however. Cub glanced at Scar, who nodded to him quietly. 

He wondered, yet again, what Scar wished for them to discover.

“So you don’t think we should stay.”

“No,” False said simply. “Neither does TFC. But both of you know that.”

Cub closed his eyes. A terrible idea was forming in his mind. It could all backfire so terribly, but- 

“Can you explain why?” he asked. “Beyond the obvious, of course. Unless there is nothing beyond.”

False stiffened, clearly surprised. From the corner of his eye, Cub glimpsed Scar giving him a puzzled expression.

“I - I’m not mad at either of you, just so you know,” she said. TFC gave a soft tap of his boot. “Well, okay, maybe a little mad. But it’s not like - like I suddenly hate you guys or anything. It’s just… oh this is hard. How do I say this.”

“I remember the oldest tales about vexes,” TFC said, finally seating himself on a chest. He was holding a bottle of honey in his hands, and peering at it with a close curiousness. “Didn’t live through that time, but certainly heard enough of it. And seen enough of the aftermath.”

Scar nodded, like he knew every hidden reference.

“I spawned just before rumors of acquisition started,” he said. “It was… chaotic, from what I remember.”

“Yep,” TFC said. “I remember all the hunts from both sides. After joining Hermitcraft, I didn’t want to keep up with that news. It’s why we’re Hermits, after all.” 

Scar lowered his head.

“Right,” he whispered. “I understand. I’m sorry.”

Which he did, Cub supposed, but he had found himself quickly losing track of that conversation. Though the words he comprehended, sharp and clear as newly cooled glass, any attempt to piece it all together instead veered them from his mind in a fluid, fleeting vapor. 

As if on cue, they both turned to glance at him. 

“Like - sorry about the vote, but we both feel it has to be done.” False said, bringing Cub’s mind back. “I’m sure some of the others have given reasoning about - well, the risks of you guys being around players for so long. It’s not that I don’t trust you guys to try, or…”

She sighed, running a hand through wavy, lashing hair. “I know vexes have personalities nearly, if not just as diverse as players. But given the fact that this is the case, and we still don’t have a single documented case of vexes living peacefully among a player community besides you two - I just think it doesn’t bode well for the idea that you guys _can_ control your own code.”

Cub realized he was crumbling the lapel of his coat again. He quickly smoothed it out and glanced at Scar. He was silent and focused on False, the perfectly attentive listener.

“And with all of the stuff both of you have done as the Convexes,” TFC added. “I don’t know if it was a coping mechanism, but it seems to escalate with every season. I remember Demise too, Cub.”

Cub sighed, but nodded in acknowledgement. He had a feeling Demise would haunt him for a long time.

“Both of you have been rather quiet,” False observed. “Is there - I mean, I know this is all very awkward and all. But is there anything…”

“Right, sorry,” Scar said quietly. “I’ve just had to talk… a lot, recently. I understand your reasoning, and I do agree with it.”

“You still want to leave, don’t you?” Cub asked. His chest felt heavy, dragging, painful. He didn’t know what else to say. 

Scar didn’t respond, or meet his gaze.

“You want to leave too?” False blinked. “I mean, that - that’s a bit weird to me. I mean - no offense, Scar. But given the choice, I don’t know why you’d...”

TFC merely frowned.

“It’s for the same reasons you stated,” Scar said. “I don’t want to put Hermitcraft in danger. And I just…”

He trailed off. Cub stepped over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, and his chest seized. He bit down a plea to reconsider. “You don’t have to talk, Scar.”

Scar looked away, and remained silent. 

Cub turned to False and TFC. 

“You mentioned you were talking to Stress and xB. Did either of them decide on something?”

“They didn’t say so,” False said, leaning further against a barrel. “We talked about a lot of stuff, actually. Both Stress and xB brought up the point that both of you have been Hermits for a long time. But given the time-based nature of your problems, it didn’t do much to convince either me or TFC.”

“Talked about other things too,” TFC said. “They also told us about this meeting after you've finished?”

“In the shopping district,” Cub confirmed. Scar was still staring blankly out a window. “I think there’s only… 6 more Hermits left to talk to. It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Right. I guess you’d best be going,” TFC said. There was a softness to his tone that hadn’t been there before. “Just to let both of you know - I won’t be upset if you end up staying.”

He looked as though he wanted to say more. But there was only silence. 

Scar tensed quietly. 

“I mean - okay, I won’t be that upset either. Maybe a little judgemental of what everyone else’s priorities are,” False sighed. “But I know we have to respect the democracy and all that. Even the consequences of it. I can live with it. Hopefully.”

“Right,” Cub murmured softly. “We should find Xisuma. He should be around here somewhere.” 

“And finish all this up, yeah,” False said. “Well… see you soon.”

Cub gave Scar a soft shake. Scar nodded, and turned to the open ceiling.

“Sorry,” he whispered. His voice cracked, and it split Cub’s ears more deeply than the most cacophonous ghast shriek. “I - I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Cub tugged him forward. 

Scar glanced down at him, blinking. His eyes were glistening.

In the soft sunlight that filtered from above, he should never be so bleakly anguished. And yet.

Cub needed to say something. 

His throat constricted instead, tight and drowning. Facing Scar, it felt like a death sentence. 

Scar merely gave him a small, wistful smile, and shook his head. Cub tried not to grip his arm too hard. 

“For what it’s worth,” TFC suddenly said. “I’m thankful for everything you’ve brought to Hermitcraft, Scar. Neither of us meant to downplay your effort and achievements. And if you leave, regardless of what we collectively decide, I hope you manage to find happiness elsewhere. I don’t want any hard feelings.”

“Y - yeah, that,” False said.

Scar pressed against Cub’s side, just a little bit closer. His breathing smoothed to a calm, incline plane.

“Right,” he murmured. “Right. Let’s go, Cub.”

Cub blinked, and mustered up one last nod of acceptance to False and TFC.

With a quick whoosh of rockets, they were both gone. 

* * *

Xisuma was quiet as Cub gave him a quick breakdown of what had happened. They’d met up in an area of the shopping district that was bare of buildings and still smothered in mycelium, radiating an odd sort of silence. It seemed to judge as Cub struggled to not trip over his words, which for some reason he found himself resenting.

Even he wasn't normally so ineloquent. But neither Scar or Xisuma made any comment.

Xisuma seemed oddly distracted, in fact. Cub supposed that was fair.

“Are you alright, Scar?" he quietly asked. 

The question curled around his throat like a noose.

“I’m fine,” Scar said. 

Cub closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. 

He couldn't give up. Not now.

Xisuma tilted his head at Cub in some hidden message, but he could only shake his head back. Scar seemed to pay them no mind, eyes still focused on the boundless blue horizon. 

Xisuma's frown deepened the tiniest bit at that.

“Well, let’s go to Zedaph’s base next,” he finally said. "I'll tell Tango and Impulse to be there too."

Oh. Right. Zedaph's base.

That was… a really good idea, actually. Trust Xisuma to understand better than Cub ever could. 

He forcefully slowed his breathing. 

Things would be fine. They had to be. 

“Scar?” Cub asked.

“Alright,” Scar said. His tone sounded dazy, nearly misty in quality. Like the winds could swirl his voice away. “Team ZIT. Alright.”

Letters circulated Xisuma’s screen again. 

Cub handed Scar a stack of rockets for their flight. He took them without question.

* * *

“Oh, that’s so cool!” Zedaph said, eyes bright and widening. “What can you do specifically? You know, my sun and moon thing could use-”

“What - okay, Zed, stop messing around.” Impulse leaned forward, giving Cub a warily curious look. “Did I hear that right? You two are actual vexes?”

“Yes,” Cub said simply. He leaned back against the stone. As Zedaph’s base was rather lacking in actual furniture, they made do with the circle of stone stairs that was the center of his storage area. In some ways, Cub was grateful for that fact.

The cold hardness grounded him better, if nothing else.

“Well, this is a mess,” Impulse muttered. “Zed, please refrain from-”

“Experiments!” Zedaph bounded excitedly. He rushed forward and tugged insistently on Cub’s arms. “Come on, Cub! Don’t hog all the science to yourself! Quick, tell me how that teleporty thing works-”

Cub blinked, mildly startled. Across the circle, Scar gazed at them both with a bewildered look.

“Zedaph,” Impulse grounded out with a deep breath. “Can you… not. For just a few minutes.”

Cub thought he caught the edge of a smile, however.

“Looks like we know where the braincell is today,” Tango said, snorting. Then he paused. “Impulse, you want to say something?”

“Well… the more I think about this, the more my mind is melting,” Impulse sighed. “Let me get this straight. Both of you are actual vexes and the Convex pranks were a lot more inspired than what we realized. And Xisuma didn’t bother to tell us about this rather crucial little bit of information? And _somehow_ you guys managed to pull this off for over three seasons?”

Xisuma winced, rather visibly shrinking back. Impulse turned to give him a pointed look.

“They could have kept it longer,” Tango shrugged. “Sure, Scar did… that. But there wasn’t an actual need to tell us.”

“Actually,” he said, glancing at Scar. “Why tell us now?”

“We decided it was better for everyone to find out this way,” Scar said. His voice was perfectly steady. “Rather than… for some other reason.” 

“Thanks?” Tango scrunched his face up. “That’s considerate.”

“They’re vexes,” Impulse reminded him.

“...oh. Right.”

Scar looked up to meet Cub’s eyes. He was the perfect painting of calmness. Nothing visible out of place, as unwavering as the stone beneath them.

Cub couldn’t help but wonder why Scar hadn’t chosen to sit next to him, instead seating himself a few blocks away from everyone else. He was more withdrawn, this time.

Worry gnawed away at his mind, but he forced himself to remain still. This was, surprisingly enough, one of Cub’s lesser worries.

He trusted Scar, after all. He had to. 

“Can I talk now?” Zedaph asked, vibrating in his seat with the anticipation of a bee held back from sunlit flower fields. 

“Just try not to ramble,” Impulse said, sighing.

“Sure,” Tango said at the same time, rolling his eyes at them both.

“Yes!” Zedaph cheered. Then he paused. “Wait! Why do I have to follow your mean rules? I can talk whenever I want!” 

He flew from his seat so fast Cub had no time to register the fact the Zedaph was approaching _him_.

“Cub! My fellow scientist! Tell me everything about that weird vex power stuff, cause you know, the books have _so_ much speculation! Speculation is not the foundation of good science! But _you’d_ never lie to me, so speak up. Tell me your secrets!”

His vision blurred, whirring up and down with a frenetic intensity. Through the haze, Cub managed to push back against Zedaph’s insistent shaking.

“Provided we stay - sure?” Cub gently pried Zedaph’s hand off of himself. “I’m getting kind of dizzy, Zed.”

Zedaph gave him a small pout, but reluctantly inched back towards his seat.

“This is such a massive opportunity!” He flopped down next to Tango with a zealously eager expression, one which Cub both appreciated greatly and feared very, very much. “Do you guys know how many players have the chance to study vex magic? Very little! I don't want to say zero, but if you round the number, it’s probably zero.”

“You can round any number to zero if you try hard enough,” Tango snickered through tiny giggles.

“‘Provided you stay?’” Impulse repeated. “You mean - the whole voting thing?” 

“Oh, right. I kind of forgot about that.” Zedaph clapped his hands. “Well, obviously everyone would be fools to throw you two out of Hermitcraft. I mean - Scar! Your _trees_. Can you make some trees for me sometime? Please? Tango makes fun of my base for being too bland. I’ll give you a free Zoucher!”

Scar blinked. “What’s a Zoucher?”

“I want you to stay too,” Tango said, ribbing Zedaph with a huff. “Someone needs to clean up the mess that is the shopping district.”

He paused, and his expression tightened. “Plus… vex or not, I can’t justify forcing either of you two out of Hermitcraft. Not after you’ve both done so much. So yeah. I guess this is me saying both of you are really cool. Especially Scar. You’re like - the best Hermit. Way better than Cub and his stupid businesses.”

“ConCorp gunpowder is of proven top quality,” Cub retorted back. If Tango really wanted to start this _again_ , he was more than willing to go along with it.

“Please. We all know everyone preferred _my_ farm-fresh supplies, that don’t sit rotting-”

“Okay, can we stop with last season squabbles?” Impulse asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Tango, I did co-own all the ConCorp shops,” Scar pointed out. 

“Details, details,” Tango waved. “Cub always-”

“You just won’t admit how much better my farm was,” Cub said, leaning back with a smug look. It was one he had perfected last season specifically to throw at rival businesses.

“What are the votes so far anyway? And who haven’t you guys talked to yet?” Impulse cut in, given them all a hard, narrowed look. Tango raised an eyebrow at him, but fell silent.

“The votes… are tied, actually,” Xisuma said, finally breaking his silence. “Since you and Zedaph stated your support.”

That made Cub internally raise an eyebrow. The votes were not, in fact, tied. He wondered how intentional the slip-up was.

Tango and Zedaph both turned to Impulse. 

“Don’t peer pressure me,” Impulse grumbled.

“Peer pressure! Peer pressure! Peer-”

“Okay Zed, maybe we should give him a little room,” Tango said. It was oddly reassuring, the casual way with which he guided the conversation. Cub wondered how much of it was intentional. 

Tango always did have a knack for such things - Team ZIT’s proven their ability to accomplish a rather staggering amount, after all, despite their… less than organized nature.

He wondered if it was envy he felt, watching it in action. He didn’t know. Envy was something Cub had experienced a painful amount of, but it felt strangely different this time.

“What I don’t get is - is just _how?_ And _why?_ ” Impulse waved his arms vaguely. If Cub had felt less guarded, he would have commented on the resemblance to a sheet ghost attempting to appear frightening without the sheet. Still, he felt himself relax just the tiniest bit. There was no malice or animosity here, only stunned perplexity. 

“Like - _vexes_ ! Does any of this make _sense?_ Nope. Of course you and Zed wouldn’t care, but like - _what?_ ”

“You mean… why we’re here?” Scar asked. “It’s just pure luck Wels found me in some random world and invited me to Kingdomcraft.”

“It’s not just luck,” Cub said, turning to Scar again. “Few players, let alone vexes, are as cooperative as you. Don’t downplay how important your decisions are.”

Scar looked down. He drew in a deep breath, and Cub saw his hands grasp each other with a bone white ferocity. His body seemed to shake with some hidden storm, and once again Cub regretted he could only sit and watch.

“I - thanks, Cub,” he finally whispered, shifting quietly. He glanced up at Impulse.

“Right,” Impulse cleared his throat. “But like - why would either of you _want_ to be on Hermitcraft in the first place? Hiding everything means limiting your magic use, and that’s not an ideal situation to be in. Plus vexes - you guys - are sustained by fear, which is… kind of hard to come by around here.”

“Perhaps,” Scar murmured. “But some things are a lot easier to come by around here too.”

“Hermitcraft is much better than any alternative I have,” Cub said simply. 

It was painfully true, but in a way he was glad for that fact. It made the Hermitcraft, unequivocally, his biggest priority. There were no torn loyalties. 

Impulse gave them both a puzzled look. Tango elbowed his shoulder, brows furrowing.

“Dude, obviously Hermitcraft is the best. There’s no question about it. Who _wouldn't_ want to be here?”

The last few words had an almost contemplative quality to them. Cub caught Zedaph giving him an almost assuring grin, nodding a few times quietly.

“No, you don’t understand,” Impulse muttered faintly. “I’ve encountered and... talked - to vexes before. From a strategic standpoint there’s little reason for any vex to abandon their mansion and try to blend among players.”

“I gave up trying to think strategically a long time ago,” Scar sighed. “It wasn’t worth the stress.” 

“Strategically, Hermitcraft is the best option I have,” Cub said. He glanced at Scar again. Shoulders slumped back, facade of strength finally wearing out. But at least he seemed secure. Eyes sharp, breathing faint and even. 

Impulse glance between them, incomprehension penned in a drawn, shifting expression of bafflement.

“Oh, it’s not that hard, Impulse!” Zedaph said, bouncing. “Some of us would much rather mess around here than deal with… _responsibility_. The horror, I tell you! The horror! Just the thought of it cripples my fragile sensibilities!”

To emphasize the point, he collapsed down and flopped across the floor, limbs convulsing in a posture of melodramatic agony.

“It’s quite difficult to find a group as irresponsible as us,” Tango agreed, covering a series of muffled snorts. “Quite frankly, I think we should be proud of it.”

“We _do_ have responsibilities,” Impulse interjected.

“To each other, yes,” Scar said quietly. “Not to any system or society, though. I think we take that for granted sometimes.”

 _We do_ , Cub thought, looking down. _So much. But still not enough, sometimes._

“Right. We do.” Impulse closed his eyes. “I can see that.”

“What do you think, Impulse?” Xisuma asked. “Some of the others we talked to were undecided. We’re having a meeting in the shopping district afterwards to clear things up.”

“No need,” Impulse said. “I think Cub and Scar should have a place on Hermitcraft too. It’s… it’s only fair.”

 _It’s only fair_. 

“You think that’s the fairest option?” Scar echoed quietly.

“Well… I think we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you were any other mob,” Impulse said, wringing his hands.

It was true. It was also not fair. 

None of this was fair. There was no true fairness in this vast universe - only scraps of well meaning systems, cobbled together into some semblance of what most would dare call justice. Cub had long since accepted the futility of attempting to prove otherwise.

Scar met his gaze, blinking. Twin pinpoints of light flickered within his eyes.

For once, they both remained silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh yeah I have no excuse for the long update except school is kicking me and they put all my hard classes this semester help I actually have to study for things how ridiculous is that amiright-
> 
> Yeah so... not much to say here. I always don't know I well I handled a chapter until the comments come in so... please tell me how well/badly this was done. All the reasonings and character all that pizzazz.
> 
> Okay yeah so we're very close to the end and then I can finally work on the... like 10 other WIPs I have...whatever. 
> 
> This was going to be longer but I decided to take what was going to be the original last scene and put it in next chapter instead;


	14. Freedom

“Oh. Hello.” Mumbo took a step back as Scar placed his own forward in a strange synchronization. They blinked at each other.

He could _feel_ the awkwardness radiating, permeating through his skin in tiny, jittering pinpoints of nervousness. Somehow, it seemed like both the most and least pressing of his worries.

“Hello,” Xisuma said. Cub merely nodded.

Mumbo glanced around, but Grian was nowhere to be seen. Trust him to bother Mumbo all morning and fly off the moment he needed actual support.

“I assume you’re here for the… Cub and Scar’s… uh.” 

He glanced at Cub, who seemed as impassive as ever. His eyes bored into Mumbo’s.

He suppressed another step back.

Mumbo had always had trouble puzzling out Cub, trying to string together some semblance of behavioral pattern. Disappeared for 2 weeks? Building, or resource gathering, or perfecting the design of some new farm. Never mind that no normal person would completely isolate themselves for 2 weeks just to work on a single project without break. He attacked his problems with an almost frightful distress, as if the world hinged on its complete and utter control all the way down to the very last triviality. And yet, the opposite mindset seemed to overtake him in random situations. 

It was doubly not normal for Cub to simultaneously enjoy certain other activities. Random missing blocks, vaguely threatening signs, randomly punching people while invisible, absurdly specific quests for equally absurdly specific stolen items - all signs that Cub was having his fun around the server. He often pushed it to the extreme, and not in the minigame sense. More like a train of thought that refused to die out, that _Cub_ refused to let die out, that he clung to for far longer than what should be normal. It wasn’t… bad, or annoying by any means, but it was _weird._ Which was saying a lot in a world like Hermitcraft.

It should make sense, thinking about it now, but Mumbo still had trouble reconciling all the peculiar parts that made Cub… Cub. How someone could be so desperately serious and desperately joking at the same time. He was, surprisingly, inherently unpredictable in a way Mumbo had never encountered before. It made for an unusually frustrating mystery. 

And something told him that being a vex was _still_ not an explanation. That the pieces weren’t right. That they weren’t… _there._

“Grian told you, didn’t he?” Scar asked. Mumbo reeled his mind back and blinked, taking a moment to register Scar’s question.

“Yes,” he said after a pause. What else was there to tell them? “I think he explained everything, basically. Though obviously I don’t know for certain.”

He couldn’t think of a reason for Grian to omit anything important, at any rate, though there was the question of where he was now. It had been a surprise for sure, when he had swooped down from the sky out of nowhere and finally explained what the past few days had been about. And laughed at Mumbo’s spelling. 

Where _had_ Grian gone, anyway? He had been around just a few moments ago.

"Including the..." Scar trailed off, but Mumbo thought he understood what he meant. Mostly. Probably. 

Alright. Maybe he wasn't exactly a paragon of confidence or anything, or particularly great at analyzing people, but he did know how to puzzle the pieces together. That was his job.

"Yes, including all the stuff where you trapped them overnight in glitched concrete powder, and may or may not have homicidal tendencies based on stuff no one can control." Mumbo said. He paused, and then winced. "I probably shouldn't put it like that? That was badly worded. Oh dear. Sorry?"

Great. Mumbo was off to such a great start. He was doing so great he should give himself a self-congratulatory dinner tonight. And proper one with variety in taste and not just the same golden carrots, which while filling, were rather dull to eat every day. If it weren’t for their dedication to efficiency, Mumbo was sure half of Hermitcraft would have sworn off eating golden carrots for the rest of their lives by now.

"It's alright," Scar said, shifting. He coughed quietly. "I did do that."

"We're all fine now, though," Xisuma said loudly. "Did Grian tell you about the whole voting thing?"

"Yes," Mumbo said. "I almost wish he hadn't, since he was also bothering me while I was _trying_ to work on my base. Kind of wish I had just learned it from you."

“He _is_ very annoying sometimes, isn’t he?” Cub snorted. “It does save us another explanation, though.”

"So..." Mumbo shifted. 

"So what do you think? Is there something else you want to say?" Xisuma asked. “Ideally it’s better to, than to not to.”

“Right,” Cub said mildly. “ _You're_ supposed to feel like the inquisition, not us."

It certainly didn't feel that way. But at the very least, Mumbo had had plenty of time to consider the topic. All the dangers - and he had read of so, so many - as well as the very long list of everything Cub and Scar had done for Hermitcraft.

There was one more factor at play here, of course. It loomed over everything as Mumbo thought about his response. His decision would have been the same either way, but the fact cemented it into a place of no doubt.

"I'm not going to lie," Mumbo said, glancing around. "I'd be a huge hypocrite if I said you two didn’t deserve to stay."

"What - oh," Cub said. His gaze shifted upwards towards the sky. For the first time… he seemed contemplative. 

It was an expression Mumbo rarely saw on him, with how effortlessly Cub had always made his ideas seem. Like with barely a thought, he could draw them out from the vast plumes of mystical air that swirled in his mind.

Needless to say, Mumbo was not a good judge of character. Or reliable narrator. He could only speculate.

"You know, I found Grian snooping around in my base once.” Cub continued. “His 'elytra' was this very suspicious purple color. And much bigger than what an elytra should be. _And_ made of feathers for some reason."

Very suspicious purple. That was… one way to describe it.

"Right, that," Mumbo said. He suppressed a cough. "I really don't know how to say this, but..."

Well, they were all Hermits for a reason.

"You requested I allow Grian into Hermitcraft," Xisuma noted. "Before Grian himself even agreed to it."

“Grian didn't know what was best for him!" Mumbo flared. "He still thought he could outrun the Watchers in some other world, and maybe he could have gotten away with it, but Hermitcraft was his only safe bet at the time and we all know it."

"Well, Grian's not exactly known for his sense of self-preservation," Cub pointed out. 

"He does have one, actually," Scar said. "He's just really, really bad at making safe decisions."

Mumbo sighed. If he had a diamond every time Grian did something life threatening, he would be richer than the Convexes had been last season.

If he had a diamond every time Grian made a decision that could… actually kill him, well and forever…

Mumbo didn’t like how rich he would be then either. Not one bit. And he wasn’t even one of the ones who knew most of the story.

"Hence why I asked Xisuma to take him in," he said. "And label Hermitcraft as a potential target for the Watchers. X, remember how you agreed to help me cover up that fact too?"

"And he did such a fine job of it," Cub said. An unusually heavy amount of sarcasm dripped from his tone, so tangible that even Mumbo could taste it.

"Look, it's not my fault Grian's so bad at it too," Xisuma huffed. "I don’t think he even tries at this point. Anyway, what you're saying is-"

"Yes, I think you two deserve to stay," Mumbo said. The words left his mouth surprisingly easily. Perhaps he had gotten too used to such statements. 

Mumbo had agreed to far worse things in the past, after all. He took a deep breath.

“Otherwise, by that logic, we’d need to kick Grian out too.”

“The Watchers aren’t going to get through Hermitcraft’s protection,” Scar said, frowning. “Try as they might, they can’t change the rules of the universe. But we’re _in_ Hermitcraft.”

“There’s at least 5 Hermits with the admins powers to ban either of you at a moment’s notice,” Mumbo said. “Yes, it’s still a risk given what vex magic can do, but I think what both of you have and can provide to Hermitcraft far outstrips whatever risk that comes along with it.”

The foundation of his reasoning came down to this. It was just common sense, really, at the end of the day. One only needed to look at Scar or Cub’s bases last season to realize how ridiculous it would be to waste such talent. 

After all, wasn’t Hermitcraft not only a community, but also a project of art? Wasn’t that why they went through the pains of meticulously repairing damage and sorting items and making last minute touch-ups just before the end of a season, in preparation for the opening of the world to the public?

Theories have long abounded over who and what this mysterious group known as “Hermitcraft” is, and Mumbo took a special pride in the way his and other Hermits’ creations have been lauded as some of the most creative and impressive among the worlds. 

Too much, probably. It stemmed from factors he would rather not consider, but for once that wasn’t the point here.

“Some Hermits consider certain elements more important than others,” Xisuma murmured quietly. “It’s being presented so clearly here.”

“I think I’ve made my position rather clear. Probably,” Mumbo said. Some part of him that he couldn’t pin down itched uncomfortably. “Is there… anything else?”

“I don’t think so?” Scar asked. “Thanks?”

“Right. You’re welcome,” Mumbo said, taking a step back. Funny, how things looped in such ways.

“We should probably finish talking to everyone, and then call the meeting,” Xisuma added. “I assume Grian told you about that?”

“Oh yes,” Mumbo said. “And no rush. We can all wallow in misery and guilt about lying to everyone afterwards.”

Xisuma winced. Scar patted his shoulder.

Mumbo merely waved as they each flew off, yet again. The iron beneath his feet was heating up uncomfortably in the searing sunlight.

He took out some blocks, and prepared to continue building.

Something rustled behind him. He froze.

“You know, that went better than I expected.”

Mumbo sighed, hung his head for a few moments in resignation, and went back to work.

* * *

“Well, that’s an incredibly obvious decision,” Cleo said. “Of course you two can stay? Since when was Hermitcraft based around the concept of safety?”

“Since we decided we wanted to live isolated from the outside,” Joe said. “We’re known as Hermits for a reason.”

“Which includes Cub and Scar,” Cleo said. She examined Joe carefully. It was one of her favorite pastimes, dissecting every word and accompanying action Joe did. Or anyone, really, but Joe happened to be the most convenient and entertaining target.

“Yes,” Joe said. “In both ways.”

He wasn’t against it. There was no way, Cleo knew. 

Xisuma knew too, judging by the relaxed posture. And so did Scar, surprisingly - or perhaps not really _that_ surprising, now that Cleo considered their new information. He and Cub were glancing at each other in some series of messages she decided was too complicated to try and decipher.

“Cub and Scar are not threats,” she rolled her eyes at Joe. “Stop playing Herobrine’s advocate. I know you agree with me.”

“I do.” Joe leaned back and glanced at Scar and Cub, both of whom blinked back at him. Though of course, Cleo knew the real words would be had with someone else entirely. “I just wanted to point out how the specificity of your statement contradicts-”

“Oh, not this again. If I want it to be true I’ll will it so. It’s as easy as being a sentient zombie,” Cleo said, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you agree?”

Joe merely gave a familiar, long-suffering sigh. 

“Alright,” Xisuma cleared his throat. “Well…”

“Well what?” Cleo asked. “Expecting something else?”

Joe gave her a nudge.

“The meeting,” he said. “After this. I’d like to be there.”

“Oh yes, of course you do,” Cleo said. _And some other places, probably._ That could wait until after - and she wouldn’t dare miss out on it herself. “So do I. The sound of argument - Hermitcraft at its finest. Sounds like a fun way to spend my afternoon.”

From the corner of her eyes, she glimpsed Scar stiffen just the tiniest bit.

“Aren’t there places you’d like to be afterwards?” Joe asked, raising an eyebrow back at her. Cleo scowled, though unfortunately it held no true malice. 

“Wouldn’t you know,” she muttered. “Wouldn’t you know.”

Xisuma was typing into his communicator again. Given their situation, the letters looked quite like a congregation of puppets marching behind a pale yellow curtain - whether death or salvation awaited behind, Cleo did not yet know. 

Considering their predicament, she supposed it was part of the fun.

* * *

They’d chosen to meet in Grian’s barge.

The sunlight was soft and pale as he stepped inside, wrapping around him in a warm, gentle haze. It was calming, in some ways. Dangerous, in others. 

_Focus_ , Scar thought. _That’s all you need to do. Focus._

What he had not expected, however, were the amount of Hermits that had shown up. 

Nearly everyone was there. xB and Stress, of course, but also Team ZIT, lounging around on a collection of barrels near the back. Grian and Mumbo chased each other around the wooden support pillars while Iskall laughed hysterically at them both, cackles clear even among the dim of other conversation. False, TFC, Jevin, and Ren were in some sort of circle at the left corner, while Keralis and Beef leaned on barrels close by. Etho took a moment to spot, splayed like a cat across the beams above.

And, to both his surprise and anxiety, Doc was curled up beside him.

Only Bdubs and Hypno were nowhere to be seen.

“Howdy, y’all!” Joe called as soon as he pearled over to the entrance. “Joe Hills here, heralding the start of this meeting as I always do the Hermitcraft server.”

And suddenly, everyone quieted. And everyone turned to stare. 

Scar fought the urge to shield himself behind Xisuma. Cub glanced at him, but he shook his head. 

_Forward._

He stepped forward. 

Scar couldn’t help the wave of relief that overcame him as Joe moved as well, leading the way towards the barge’s center.

He shouldn’t be this nervous. He shouldn’t be. 

_You don’t give Hermitcraft enough credit._

Scar had never hoped so desperately in his life that something was true.

The silence wrapped around his throat, a deadly sentence of paralysis. He suddenly felt like some walking corpse, numb to the outside world and shambling in a thoughtless gait with all the regrets of a past life scorned chained deep within him.

No one spoke as Joe stopped at the collection of barrels in the barge’s center and practically pushed Scar down into a seat. A beam of sunlight fell across him, stilling on his face.

Cub settled next to him, and briefly grasped his hand. The touch was warm. Burning, even, but he could barely register it.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to breathe. To prepare. To calm himself. He concentrated on the grainy wood beneath him. The still air, saturated with sawdust and uncertainty. Cub and Joe to his left and right, so close yet so far away.

The dull thump of Xisuma’s boots as he walked forth to address the Hermits.

“Thanks for... showing up...” he began, though Scar thought it sounded more like a question than anything else.

He opened his eyes. Xisuma had his hands clasped tightly behind him, fingers tightening and loosening in no discernible pattern. Otherwise, he was unnaturally still against the backdrop of the other Hermits. 

“You sound like you’re at a funeral, dude,” Iskall said. 

Grian snorted quietly beside them, but some lamentful note slipped through.

 _Maybe we are,_ Scar couldn’t help but think. _Maybe we are._

“Well,” Cub said. He stood and took a few steps forward to stand next to Xisuma. “The votes.”

He knew what was happening. That wasn’t what he had feared.

It had never been what Scar feared, not really. Not when the roots of their problem stretched so, so much deeper.

“xB and Stress are the only undecided ones, but… it’s 12 to 7 in favor of letting us stay right now,” Cub said.

There was a fleeting moment of silence. They all glanced at each other, taking a moment to absorb the news. The moment was taking forever.

Scar wasn’t breathing. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

And then, xB, cleared his throat.

“So what you’re saying is that our votes don’t matter,” he said. 

Upon both Cub and Xisuma’s wide eyes, he doubled over and chuckled.

“I’m just joking,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling up. “I wanted both of you to stay anyway.”

Scar inhaled slowly, a well of gratitude rising within as he did so. 

He had dreaded that silence that which overtook so many discussions, had dreaded having to break and force and trudge his way through that eerily desolate landscape, and the grin on xB’s face had slashed all potential for it to manifest from the most nerve-wrackingly anticipated of the reveals.

There was still so much more. But it was something. 

Stress, meanwhile, closed her eyes. 

“Well, I - I would’ve gone agains’ that,” she said. “But it didn’ matter, anywa’. I‘m not mad or disappointed.”

Scar looked down. Of course. More, always more.

 _It’s 13 vs 8_ , his mind supplied. He gripped his hands around the barrel’s edge. 

“Alright,” Xisuma said vaguely. It was clear he didn’t quite know how to proceed either.

_13 vs 8._

_8._

_8 Hermit don’t want you here._

_8 Hermits would rather you leave._

_13 Hermits disagree._

_8 vs 13._

_13 vs 8._

_You know nothing, Scar._

He needed to focus. Everyone’s eyes were on him. They burned holes into him, and no shield could deflect any of it.

Scar tried to swallow. 

Cub could stay. Cub - Cub would stay, he _had_ to - even if-

_Everything will be fine._

He tried to believe it. He had to. They’d been fine so far.

The pressure on his throat was suffocating. 

_It was suffocating him._

_So say it._

He gripped the edge of the barrel and looked up at Cub. 

Memories wrapped his mind, his words, his actions. They defined him.

But they also developed him. If he allowed them.

Cub’s words rang in his ears again.

_Don’t stall._

“I can still leave,” he choked out quietly. Joe tensed beside him. No one else had heard it, not even - 

Cub was still shuffling awkwardly, a few blocks ahead. Scar felt Joe shake him softly.

“Scar,” he whispered. “What do you want to say?”

 _So much and so little,_ Scar thought. _But I can never-_

 _You can_ , he reminded himself. _You can, you’ve done it, you can do it again, this is no different, just_ say _it-_

_-make a habit of it, you can’t keep hesitating-_

“Does - does the agreement work?” he whispered back. He winced as the words left him, with their vague and uncertain ideas.

Joe is nothing if not a man of ideas, however.

“Yes,” he said. There was no hesitation in his swift response. “I believe with all my mind and soul that the foundations of Hermitcraft are strong enough, Scar.”

Cub was saying something in the background. Other voices chimed in, rings of cacophony like redstone powered bells.

“We’re supposed to be a home for those who don’t have one,” xB’s voice floated distantly. “Where else do you think they can go?”

“Another world?” Stress challenged. 

Scar drew himself tighter, The rings clashed against his skull, but he had to make sense of it all, had to understand - what else would this be for?

“Alone?” xB asked. 

_Focus._

“Is there anythin’ wrong wif that?”

“Yes,” xB said. There was a hard edge to his tone Scar was far too familiar with. But for once, it didn’t cut into him. “Yes, there it is. It’s not fun. I daresay it gets maddening for most, after a while. Would you know how, Stress?”

Murmurs. More murmurs. Scar could pick out neither the words nor the voices. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“One thing at a time, Scar,” Joe said. Scar nodded numbly. 

He thought he heard Etho say something in that uniquely warped accent of his, but the meaning drifted off into the cool, clear breeze. A brisk wind was drafting into the barge.

“We’re a community firs’, xB. We ‘ave to consider all of us. That’s the most importan’.”

“We provide a home for those that have nowhere else to go, Stress. I would probably be dead without Hermitcraft, and it’s not fair we just turn-”

Beef’s tired voice cut through.

“Is there really any point in discussing this further?” he asked. 

Scar slowly, painfully, dragged his head up. He strained, trying to grasp onto every new word. 

_Don’t lose ground. Don’t lose focus._

“No,” Stress sighed. “Not really. It’s just - ‘bout the concept, ya know?”

“Right, so-”

_Focus._

He needed focus to understand. To think. To respond. 

To talk.

“One question,” Scar said quietly. The chatter continued around him.

“One question,” he repeated to himself again, a little louder. Cub turned to him. 

Scar nodded, and he nodded back with a smile of encouragement.

“One question,” Scar said. His voice rang loud and clear in his mind. 

And suddenly, the ringing stopped.

“Does - does anyone object to the decision? For both of us to stay?” 

He felt strangely calm. Like the past day’s words had finally knitted themselves into a blanket of soft, cool stillness. 

There was always something he could do, Scar realized. And the ripples never stopped. 

It was terrifying. It filled him with hope.

Amidst the silence, someone cleared their throat.

“Was there another option?” False asked.

Scar held his breath against the sharp wind that swirled against him. 

“Total anarchy,” Jevin supplied. “But that sounds like a bad idea. Let’s not do that.”

“Yes, that _is_ rather counterproductive,” she said, leaning forward. “So let’s confirm this agreement right here - the vote’s done. It’s counted. And Cub and Scar are staying on Hermitcraft if they want to.”

False turned back to Scar at the last few words, and he forced himself to meet her eyes. Fire burned within them, bright and full of intention. 

As her gaze lingered a few moments longer on him, Scar managed a nod.

“Yeah?” Grian said. “That’s just common sense.”

“Oh, You’d be surprised,” Doc said. Something painful twisted in the words. 

“On the contrary, I’m rather sure I wouldn’t be,” Grian said flippantly back at him. “I daresay I’ve seen more than you, Doc. What I meant was for Hermitcraft.”

Doc scoffed, but didn’t pursue the matter further. That fact alone told Scar all he needed about their exchange. 

But Grian’s words clung to his mind.

_What I meant was for Hermitcraft._

His hands shook.

“No objections from me,” Keralis said. “It’s - it has to be fair. As fair as we can make it. It’s how Hermitcraft has always been, since - since nearly its beginning.”

_How Hermitcraft has always been._

Scar’s chest tightened.

“Right,” TFC nodded. “Both of you are welcome here. And should be, by all of us.”

One by one, they all nodded their agreement.

_“I hate you,” a player snarled. “I hate you so much. I hope you die just like this one day.”_

He struggled to remember their name. There were so many names always whirling in his mind, and yet none that he could grasp. All were lingering ghosts, intent on haunting him to the end. 

Scar couldn’t blame them.

_As he stalked down the hallways of his mansion, BadTimes could hear the crying from below. It seemed there was always crying, these days._

_He wondered if his own tears counted._

He hated himself, too. For a long time, that was all he could associate his past with.

Hatred. Hatred, and fear.

And regret. It always overwhelmed him.

_Running from serious topics is such a strong suit of yours._

Scar’s eyes blurred. He closed them, the buzz of conversation long since tuned out.

_But I’m not running right now._

He was allowed. He was wanted, despite everything. 

_He was wanted._

And he couldn’t allow his past to drag him down anymore. His ghosts and regrets would always remain, but he had to acknowledge that they were just that; ghosts and regrets. Memories of a time long gone, of a place far away. 

Of a history that he had to both accept, and move on from. 

_“The other Hermits all really want you there. If nothing else, do it for them, alright?”_

Scar took a tremoring breath, allowing himself to glance up at everyone surrounding him. It still rang true, even now. 

What has Hermitcraft always been? Despite how long they’d all been members, the past few days had provided so many conflicting answers. 

_We’re all hiding from our own pasts on Hermitcraft, remember?_

But some answers would always remain the same. 

_Hermitcraft has spoken. We will agree._

It was their choice to decide his risk and worth. They had decided. He was more than worth the time and friendship and place on in their worlds, and-

How could he deny that?

Scar turned to Cub, who blinked back and gave him a small smile. There were questions in his eyes - questions, but also hope, and trust, and determination, and Scar didn’t want to let him down any longer. 

He didn’t want to hide from him any longer.

He smiled in return, and the last of Cub’s stiffness softened away. 

Xisuma cleared his throat.

“So… we’re all for sure in agreement? Keep in mind we _are_ setting a formal precedent.”

The next few moments produced a final series of nods and confirmations of “yes”. 

“Of course,” Joe said. “Formal precedence. Xisuma, that was the entire point of both the votes and this meeting.”

Xisuma sighed once again, inching closer to the wall. False gave him a punch on the shoulder before patting him. 

Scar’s grip on his seat loosened. The wind ruffled his hair as he sighed, and it felt as though a slightly askew universe had just tipped itself right again. Like he could finally lean back and relax his shoulders and drift his mind off to visions of colors and shapes and textured lullabies.

He took a deep breath one last time, and exhaled quietly. The wind was cool and clear in his lungs, billowing around him in smooth, serene waves. He felt light. He felt peaceful.

He felt… free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I - I have no more left to give. I don't know how well I did here, I'm still not satisfied with it. I'll probably never be satisfied with it even if I keep writing, so here it is. If you can, even if you don’t know what to say - leave a comment letting me know what you thought? Even a keyboard smash, or simple "'so and so' part felt weird". All comments are very cherished, and motivate my writing a ton.
> 
> Here is the beautiful piece of music that accompanied my writing throughout this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPbvoJlBRkw
> 
> Perhaps my new favorite piece of music, ever.
> 
> Two more chapters left. Two more. The next one wraps up nearly all of the remaining loose ends. And the final one holds some… surprises.


	15. Trust

Bdubs hated being serious.

It was a rule of his, to flit through the ups and downs of life with a carefree obliviousness. Everyone knew it was crafted for avoidance - the Hermits, of course, accepted it all the same. After all, it wasn’t exactly unusual among them.

He hated being serious, and he hated the times he was forced to do so. 

And as he had watched Scar and Cub ascend back up the stairs, Bdubs felt deep down, below the fury and despair and overwhelming intensity of frustration, a sharp, aching jealousy pooling within him.

Scar had walked in with everything to lose, and walked out stronger than he had ever been before.

Bdubs wished he could have said the same for himself. 

Afterwards, as he watched Doc, Keralis, and Beef fly off for the meeting, Bdubs felt a slowly mounting compulsion to join them. To see Cub and especially Scar again, to confront them, to-

To do _something._ He didn’t know what.

It was driving him crazy.

Bdubs sat down on his bed, trying to consider his next course of action - then he paced, frenetically uneven, before throwing himself back onto his bed. After a few minutes, he dragged himself off and began pacing again.

He wasn’t stupid. Hermitcraft had always been so much more tolerant - the nature of their isolation meant that it attracted a very specific type, after all. Bdubs wasn’t familiar with Cub and Scar, with their pasts or mannerisms or behavior, but most of the Hermits were. Beef, Keralis, and Doc especially had seemed so conflicted in the end, and as they prepared to leave for the meeting Bdubs could practically _see_ the second thoughts dragging across Doc’s expression. 

He stopped in his pacing and ran down the list, making predictions and mapping outcomes, heaving to some invisible force.

What he ultimately concluded, eventually, finally, in a fit of shouted frustration was that it was highly unlikely either Cub or Scar would leave Hermitcraft.

It was highly unlikely that the meeting where Bdubs had snarled to their faces that they deserved no place here would be the last he’d see of them. 

It meant he could either stiffly ignore their existence - or attempt to reconcile, at the very least, the idea of them being Hermits. He thought he had made his choice, watching Keralis, Doc, and Beef fly off, remaining alone on his side of the mansion balcony.

Then the doubts poured in. Bdubs hated the doubts. They lingered with every action he took, asking _why_ and _why not_ and _you’re making a terrible mistake, like you usually do, Bdubs. Always messing up, can never do anything right, why don’t you reconsider and maybe stop putting off all those very important things you know you need to get done before it all blows up in your face-_

He had, eventually, developed a pattern of studiously ignoring them. Besides, Hermitcraft didn’t care about misplaced items or stupidly avoidable deaths or a stray explosion here or there. Hermitcraft brushed it off and moved on to grander things, and as a Hermit Bdubs followed suit.

The doubts had never been louder. They clamored for reconsideration with an insistent, cacophonous pounding, and as Bdubs paced and paced he found his resolve cracking at the seasons. 

_Maybe you should talk to them more,_ his mind provided, another stark suggestion in a sea of many and Bdubs _hated_ how logical it sounded, because _what do you have to lose?_

 _Everything,_ Bdubs had wanted to scream back. _Everything!_

_Like what?_

He threw himself forward and collapsed onto his bed, gripping the blankets so hard he felt the threads give way beneath his fingernails. 

_Pungence._

Bdubs had pushed the memory of that day down and down and down, slowly, gradually, until it no longer burned his thoughts with rage and fear. He had to keep moving, build a life afterwards. This he had recognized.

But Bdubs had never let it go, not truly, never allowed the frustration to rest. It was sequestered away deep within him, some haunting ghost still clinging to the mortal realm, still refusing to accept the finality of its death. He had thoughts of revenge, of rescue, however impossible it may be, and he had promised to never, ever forget the ring of triumphant, mocking laughter that splattered like crimson blood across his memories.

_What do you have to lose?_

Everything. Everything he had known and believed in and held to his heart and mind, a torch in the darkness of lies and doubts that always seemed so intent on shadowing him.

_What do you have to gain?_

Tears trailed down his cheeks. Bdubs stomped out of his bed and shuddered towards the wall, and with an incoherent yell he slammed a fist against his bedside table. Deep black ink crawled like blood across the weathered surface, staining a nearby quill. The whiteness of the feather, previously so pure and pristine, slowly absorbed the abyssal color in a heavy, agonizing march.

_How long can you keep this up?_

_It’ll all come crashing down eventually._

Bdubs knew, of course he knew, he couldn't keep anything up forever and this was no exception-

He stared at the feather, silent and still as it continued its descent into darkness. Red tides lapped in and out of his mind. 

With trembling hands, he took out his elytra and strapped it on.

* * *

“ _Alright_ ,” Cleo said. “No hard feelings? Anyone? Spite’s not a good emotion to suppress.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Joe asked. But he sounded faintly amused.

“Hypno and Bdubs aren’t here,” False said. “None of us have hard feelings, no, but the fact of their absence…”

“Hypno wouldn’t object,” Xisuma said, though something twined in his tone. Something uncertain. “He just didn’t want to come here.”

“Well…” Doc cleared his throat. “Bdubs didn’t want to come with us. He was really… distraught.”

 _Bdubs._ It still left a painful stab in Scar’s heart. 

Things would be fine, but it still hurt. 

Scar opened his mouth - and blinked as an odd tingle of alarm silently tapped his mind. It pulled the thread, tauter and tauter, as if someone was-

“He’s here,” he said. Cub whipped around to face him, eyes wide.

“What?” Doc stiffened. 

Scar’s senses were now screaming a familiar warning in his mind. He hadn’t thought it possible for them to still be so sharp, not after all this time.

_You can’t escape your past._

The phrase was oddly comforting, now.

“Bdubs,” Scar said. “Please come out.”

_You can run from Hermitcraft, or you can face it._

Silently, the sound of thudding wood drew closer.

_The consequences are for you to decide._

Scar turned around, slowly. His heartbeat was perfectly steady. His breathing was smoothly even. 

His eyes were resolutely clear.

Bdubs stepped into the light. Scar could _feel_ waves of emotion he seemed to be so desperately suppressing, vehemence and apprehension and terror all encapsulated in one raspy, trembling breath.

“Hello, Scar,” he said. 

* * *

“Hello, Bdubs,” Scar said back. His expression was unreadable.

Everyone was looking at him. 

_You know the spotlight. This should be nothing for you._

As long as he believed it, it was true. Bdubs couldn’t afford to think otherwise. 

He already knew he did think otherwise.

“You’re staying, aren’t you?” he asked. But he could see it, in the way the other Hermits all shifted, uneasy glances exchanged across them.

Scar stood up, taking a step forward. It seemed so steady. So confident. 

Bdubs felt his blood begin to chill.

“The majority of votes were to let us stay,” Scar said. 

“So you’re staying.”

Scar glanced at Cub, who stared back at him silently. They were discussing something, Bdubs knew, veiled behind subtle gestures and meaningful looks. What it could be, he had no clue, but it pricked his mind uncomfortably.

He was one of the few that could hear what Scar was saying, he realized. Standing only a few blocks away. He forced himself to stay still.

Scar turned back to him.

“Yes.”

Joe and Cub exchanged intentful glances, but the rest of the Hermits, much further into the barge, only shrugged at each other with faint speculations.

Scar took another step forward, and then another few, and it was only then that Bdubs registered the fact that he was walking out of the barge.

“I want to talk outside,” he said quietly as he passed him.

Bdubs stood there, hands clenched and breaths uneven as he stared into the floor.

_Do something._

He could feel the gazes of everyone else burning into him.

Taking a deep breath, Bdubs dragged himself around and followed Scar out.

* * *

“...right,” Tango said. “So that happened.”

 _So that happened._ Cub glanced at the entrance. Wherever Scar and Bdubs had gone, it was out of his sight now.

He pushed down a rising panic, forcing his expression to still. There wasn’t anything to be scared of. Everything would be perfectly fine. Scar believed it, had believed in him. 

Now, he had to believe in himself. 

“I think those two can handle themselves,” Doc said slowly. “There’s a few more things we _should_ clear up here, though. Mainly, Xisuma.”

Cub couldn’t see Xisuma wince beneath his helmet, but he could practically feel the dread radiating from their admin. Joe sighed, shaking his head, while Cleo smothered a series of laughs behind them.

“Yes?” Xisuma asked. His tone was very much one of resignation. 

“What. The. Fuck. Was. That.” Doc grounded out. 

“I’ve already told everyone,” Xisuma sighed. 

“Yes, you did,” Joe said. ‘The question is how we can prevent instead of react.”

“You can be head admin,” Xisuma suggested. He seemed to perk up at the idea. “That would be fantastic-”

“Alas, I must decline this most generous offer,” Joe hastily said, shaking his head perhaps a bit more profusely than he needed to. 

He didn’t really want all the responsibility, Cub realized. Neither did, not by themselves. The idea of that hadn’t occurred to him before, how people would purposefully choose to place their lives in others’ hands.

A few days ago, he would have wondered why. Now, the reason was painfully clear. 

“It’s not a good solution anyway,” Cub said. “The nature of power is always to corrupt, and relying on the moral integrity of someone is never an effective fix.”

He fell quiet as everyone else glanced at each other.

Cub looked down, wishing he was just as brave as Scar. That he said more, did more, contributed more, not just this day but in the 4 seasons he had been on Hermitcraft. It hung over his mind like laughing shadows.

“I must agree,” Xisuma said. “But Joe seems much better suited than me-”

“There’s a reason I declined the offer back in Season 2,” Joe said. “That reason still stands.”

Power was a force that eroded away at trust and ideals, no matter how well intentioned anyone started out. Hermitcraft was lucky to have all its inhabitants recognize this, Cub supposed. The fact loosened his chest a bit.

“Wait - so this whole thing with Scar and Cub started when Xisuma didn’t say they were vexes, right?” Grian said. “The solution seems pretty simple to me.”

“You mean -that makes so much sense,” Doc said. He sounded pained. 

“Have the other admins view the code of new members too, not just Xisuma,” Tango said. He frowned. “We used to do that, actually. Then we got too reliant on Xisuma solving all our problems. By the time Season 4 rolled around the rest of us with admin status never bothered to use it.”

“That’s a fault on all of us,” False murmured. “We do owe you an apology too, X.”

“Oh, I-” Xisuma seemed almost flustered. “I mean, I shouldn’t have-”

Grian cleared his throat. “So who else has admin access here?”

“Me,” False said. “Joe, Tango, and Impulse.”

“More than enough,” Grian nodded. 

“Technically, this all started when _Wels_ didn’t tell us about Scar,” Iskall said. “So yeah, one person doing everything is not a good idea.”

 _Wels._ Cub briefly wondered what he would have made of all this. 

“ _And_ ,” Grian said, elbowing Iskall, “Potential new members are supposed to have recommendations, aren’t they?”

“Right,” Mumbo said. “You should be so grateful for the good word I put in for you, Grian. And you repaid me by pelting all my stuff with chickens.”

“Your base told me it wanted some company,” Grian said, giving Mumbo a wide eyed look. 

“Recommendation,” Iskall reminded them both.

“Oh, right. That,” Grian said. “So Python gave the recommendation for Kingdomcraft - but he did it for _all_ of Kingdomcraft, and Scar joined after him. You guys were taking quite the risk with that.”

They _had._ If Cub had been a member then, he probably would have vetoed it. 

Quite frankly, it was a miracle the idea of the server merge hadn’t been stomped on the moment it was suggested. It would certainly be the case nowadays.

“It was worth it!” Ren protested.

“Well yes, but it’s about the _principle_ of it,” Grian said. He made some swirling gesture, as if to accentuate his point. “Why the fact that one person recommended the members of one entire world, some of whom he’d never actually interacted with, and you guys didn’t look further into it was… a really bad idea. Even just questioning Wels about some stuff, I bet would have rang some warning bells.”

Perhaps, perhaps not, Cub thought. Wels wasn’t nearly as honorable as his name suggested. But it would have given them some signs for sure.

“What’s done is done,” Beef sighed. “Let’s agree to just… not have a repeat of something like this. All things considered, we got lucky with Cub and Scar.”

“We really did,” Joe murmured. 

“So we all agree to be more careful with new members from now on, and have all the admins look over changes? And just be more cautious than we already are?” Ren asked. 

One by one, they all nodded their confirmation. Cub joined in, watching a relieved expression cross Xisuma’s face.

The other Hermits all trusted each other, so much. It was ironic, given their situation, but they all still _did._ It was a special kind of trust, one where they all believed in the best of each other. Even if that best had its limits.

Especially if it did. The Hermits trusted each other to help work through those limits.

It made something hurt inside of him.

Beyond Scar, Cub had never allowed anyone else that level of trust which was shared among the rest of them. The trust that provided advice and guidance and assistance, that made them such a community. 

The trust that allowed Scar to flourish in this environment, that made everyone love him so much. He gave it so freely, despite his past, and Hermitcraft-

Hermitcraft gave it back. 

Cub thought of Scar and Bdubs, discussing something, somewhere in this world. They trusted each other to listen and to respond. Scar had shown it as Hermitcraft’s greatest strength. Everyone else had, too.

There would come a time, better sooner than later, where Cub needed to try and do the same.

* * *

He was beneath the diamond pile, a stark purple figure against the shiny whitened quartz. Slowly, Bdubs began to step forwards.

His boots eventually stopped on well-worn cobble. Scar stared at him, silent.

There was so much to be said between them. So little leeway to start. 

Bdubs stared back. Scar’s expression was tired, but masking so much more.

The moment dragged itself on. 

“Scar,” Bdubs finally said, if only for the fact that he had to say _something._ The silence was thickening, it would have choked him otherwise-

“Do you want me to stay?” Scar asked. 

“W - what kind of question is that?” Bdubs took a step back, eyes wide and heart suddenly leaping. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he was doing any of this, either, or why Scar had decided to drag him all the way there. 

Where there were only the two of them. He forced down a shudder.

_Don’t show weakness. Don’t show fear. Don’t feed them further._

And hesitantly, Bdubs pushed the mantra down into the deepest depths of his mind.

“I just want your…” Scar swallowed, but didn’t look away. “...your honest answer.”

They both understood the parallel hypocrisy of the idea, but Bdubs was too taken aback to point it out.

And staring into Scar’s uncannily green eyes, he found himself hesitating. 

Doubt crept in again. 

“You - you-”

Bdubs scrabbled for words. “The rest of the Hermits want you here.”

“But you don’t,” Scar said. 

For a fleeting moment Bdubs found himself cursing at Scar not for being a lying vex, but for placing him in this position where he was forced to repeat all that he had ever believed and doubted and considered and been too afraid to question. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said with a rising desperation.

“But it does,” Scar said, and it didn’t feel like he was talking to Bdubs anymore. “It always does.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you,” Bdubs whispered. Bitterness crept into the words, but he suddenly felt too tired to push any weight behind them. 

“Yes,” Scar said.

Bdubs took a hesitant step closer.

“Why do you want to stay?” he asked quietly.

Scar blinked slowly, and took a deep breath.

“I - I love Hermitcraft,” he said, and despite everything, Bdubs had no doubt at all that was true. “I love everything we’ve created together, from the builds to the memories. I love the idea of what Hermitcraft stands for. And I love the Hermits. We’re - we’re all supposed to be one family here, and I’ve never felt more at home anywhere. I want to keep creating, with everyone else.”

Bdubs felt weak in his legs.

He couldn’t protest even if he wanted to. Hermitcraft had decided, and apparently by a significant majority. 

He had to deal with it. 

“Just - just tell me one thing,” Bdubs said. “Tell me you weren’t part of the mansion that took Mindcrack that day.”

The chances were so low anyways. So low. He clung to that.

“I wasn’t,” Scar said quietly. “But you know that’s not really how it works.”

Bdubs sat down on the cobble path, warm to the touch in the afternoon sunlight. He buried his hands in his face and took a shuddering breath.

Scar wasn’t lying. On either accounts. It wasn’t how it worked, and none of it was fair to anyone.

“I’m sorry, anyways,” Scar said. “It’s true that everyone laughed about it. Which would include me.”

“But you have nothing to be sorry for on Hermitcraft, do you?” Bdubs said. He stared down at the cobble, at each gray bump and curve that traced out its patterns. There was a strange calmness in his chest as he thought over his words. “Neither does Cub. And even with the risk... I don’t really know you. We’ve never really worked together before.”

“No, not really,” Scar said. He kneeled down and sat on the path as well. “You joined too late last season for that."

Scar was staying, and that was final. Bdubs had to make his own choice. 

“I’m not going to protest the decision,” he said. “There’s no way I can, anyway.”

He looked up at Scar, who looked back with an unreadable expression.

That was fine as well. Bdubs had to make it that way. 

He had to move on, just as Scar had. 

Just as Hermitcraft had.

“You’ve been on Hermitcraft much longer than I have, and you’ve clearly established yourself as one of the kindest, most considerate members,” Bdubs said, and he saw Scar’s eyes widen imperceptibly. “Your reputation precedes you, Scar. It means most of the others think your friendship and happiness is worth the risk. They love you as much as you love them. And I - how can I disagree with that?”

Bdubs took a deep breath. Some of him still ached, admitting it. 

But it was time he faced it. He couldn’t avoid Scar forever. He had to make his own decision, before it was made for him.

Screams flashed in his mind. He shoved them down again.

“I-” Scar blinked, shifting. “Thanks, Bdubs. I was… worried.”

“You worked through your troubles,” Bdubs said. He clenched and unclenched his hands. “It’s only fair I work through mine. And I’m sorry I said all those things without thinking.”

“They were perfectly justified things to say, Bdubs,” Scar said. “Even if it wasn’t your brother, it was still some else’s. If I had to choose, I would say you won that argument against Etho.”

He closed his eyes. “But we all agree to move past that on Hermitcraft.”

“We do,” Bdubs said, drawing his knees up. “And even being a vex, it’s a risk we’re taking that we agree to take. We’ll just have to try our best.”

“Right,” Scar murmured. “Try our best. That’s the best we can do.”

“Funny, how that works,” Bdubs somehow found it in himself to chuckle. Scar smiled at him.

“I know,” he said. “I like that.”

* * *

Xisuma landed on the winery steps with a stumble. Before Joe could move, a pair of dark, gloved hands, reached out to steady him. 

“Hypno?” Xisuma whispered.

“Hello,” Hypno said in a wavering tone. 

“I-“ Xisuma broke off, looking down. “I’m sorry.”

“We discussed some things in the meeting,” Joe said. He heaved himself onto the porch. “Your input would be very much valued, Hypno.”

“Very,” Cleo agreed, sauntering over to sit on a bench. Joe moved to join her. “Of course, this would have all been much easier if you were there.”

“I didn’t-” Hypno froze as Cub’s form swooped down into view. He landed quietly on the steps, eyes boring into Hypno’s with a fierce resolution.

Wordlessly, Xisuma reached out to help pull him up. Joe watched quietly.

There was so much left unsaid between them all. 

“You and Scar are staying, aren’t you?” Hypno asked.

“Yes,” Cub said. 

They would get there eventually, Joe decided. Not today, but eventually. And they had all the time they needed.

Hypno nodded silently, and turned to sit on a nearby bench. Cub and Xisuma took the final one, and they all gazed across at each other in an oddly tranquil silence.

“What else is there to talk about?” Hypno finally asked. “Hermitcraft has clearly decided. Who am I to argue?”

Joe felt a twang at the words. What a strange circle of irony they had found themselves all in. 

“Well, we also discussed Xisuma,” Cleo said. “A very popular conversation topic nowadays.”

They filled him in on what was agreed. Hypno nodded through most of it, though Joe could see his shoulders slowly relax at the idea of more admin participation from other Hermits. 

“That… sounds good,” he said at the end of it. 

They sat in further silence for a few long moments, each wrapped up in their own lake of thoughts. 

Then, Xisuma cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry again,” he said. “About what I said earlier. And everything else. You were right, Hypno.”

It wasn’t hard to guess what they had argued about.

“It’s - the important thing is that everyone recognizes this,” Hypno said. He looked down. “And I’m sorry too. For being so stubborn. And not doing enough to help. We really did put all the responsibility on your shoulders, huh?”

“Thanks,” Xisuma said after a pause. He gave Hypno a smile. 

Joe felt his own body relax at the exchange. After everything, it felt nice to sit down and exchange final apologies.

“So touching,” Cleo whispered loudly. 

They all chuckled.

“Are you - are you sure you don’t have trouble with it?” Cub asked. “About me and Scar.” He was quiet, but the tone held steady. Hypno looked up to meet his eyes.

“Regardless of how I feel, both of you are still Hermits,” he said. “And that means I will look forward to working with both of you in the future.”

Cub blinked, and slowly nodded.

“It shouldn't be a problem and it's not,” Hypno said. He stood up. “We’re a family, after all.”

“We are,” Cub said. “Right.”

Joe turned to meet Cleo’s gaze.

 _Push it?_ She mouthed at him.

Joe glanced at Cub and Hypno, both of whom were pulling out rockets.

And then he turned to Xisuma.

Cleo followed his gaze, and nodded. They waited through the firing whistles and waved goodbye.

“Is there anything you want to talk about, Xisuma?” Joe asked as he watched the dots that were Cub and Hypno vanish into the reddening skyline.

Xisuma sighed. “I can always count on you to hound on my mental problems, can’t I?”

“It’s what I’m here for,” Joe shrugged. He liked to think of himself as a somewhat competent therapist, at least. 

Hermitcraft needed someone to fulfill the role. They were a rather dark and messed-up bunch, when one really thought about it. Joe certainly did. Very often.

“You know power, don’t you?” Xisuma asked. “Power and… corruption. I don’t even know if that’s how to say it.”

“Perhaps,” Joe said. He suspected the idea had been eating away at Xisuma for a while now. “You’re worried about what you’ve done before?”

“Yes, all of it,” Xisuma said quietly. “And after, too.”

“Well, power does that,” Cleo said. “Count your lucky nether stars that you even recognize it, X.”

“If I didn’t, we would have been in big trouble a long time ago,” Xisuma said.

“True, that.” Joe said. “I think - well, that’s what checks and balances are for. Just try your best, Xisuma. And tell the rest of us about issues, preferably sooner. Scar isn’t the only one who should learn some lessons from the whole ordeal.”

Joe had trust in Hermitcraft’s system, and he believed it was well founded. He had to hope everyone else recognized the same.

“Also, go to bed every night with the knowledge that everyone will be judging your actions as an admin extra closely now,” Cleo quipped. “Bet that helps.”

“A piece of information I will cherish greatly,” Xisuma said dryly. He paused, and added, “it’s comforting in a way, though. Thanks, both of you.”

“No problem, X,” Cleo said, rolling her eyes. “I’m always down to make fun of your decisions.”

Joe suppressed a bout of laughter as Xisuma made a noise of mock offense. The sun was setting in a brilliant flash on the fiery horizon, casting a long, golden shadow over the rolling green hills of his berry farm.

It was a good day to be here, Joe decided. On Hermitcraft, enjoying the company of his friends and family. As he faintly hummed to the sounds of Cleo and Xisuma bantering beside him, he was reminded once again that there was nothing in the world he would trade it for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fastest chapter yet, huh? As usual I'm not satisfied, and doubly so since this is the... well, ending. There's a final epilogue chapter left, and that will be it. 
> 
> Thanks to those of you who have read this far. We're so close to finishing...


	16. Epilogue

“Is that it?” Iskall laughed. “That looks like - like a mutated donkey! Oh, master of redstone-”

“Shut up!” Mumbo said, face reddening. “I’d like to see you do better, oh _master of redstone._ "

Scar hid a smile behind his pillow. 

Jellie purred quietly on his lap, flicking her tail up and down. He reached down to pat her head again.

A few days after the meeting, the Hermits had decided on a sleepover. It was something they usually did if most felt it was needed, and it wasn’t hard to see why the idea was greeted with such enthusiasm this time.

Impulse’s base was chosen for the occasion, with a spacious second floor and bright, calming aesthetic. They had covered it with pillows, blankets, and tables of food in a matter of hours, and now, all the Hermits were lounging around in various spots. 

Scar heard Tango snort faintly as he stroked Jellie’s fur.

“Can _you_ do better?” Iskall whirled to him.

“Totally,” Tango said. He ribbed Cub, who was smothering his own laughter. “Our design will completely blow that pathetic thing out of the water.”

“How dare-”

Scar allowed the conversation, one of many, to fade into a gentle hum in the background of his mind. Blankets pressed his face coolly as they piled around him. Jellie pawed his hair, meowing.

“Scar!”

He blinked, looking up at Zedaph. “Yes?”

“Do you want hugs? I want hugs,” he said, flopping down beside him. “Everyone else is too busy measuring their skills to give me hugs.”

“I-” Scar hesitated - and then quickly shook that hesitation off. He placed Jellie on a nearby pillow. “A hug would be nice, yes.”

That was all he said before Zedaph’s arms enveloped him. 

It was warm and soft, and Scar hadn’t realized how much he missed it until now. Hugs had always been a rare occasion in his life.

“Hey guys!” Scar heard Zedaph yell distantly. There was a smirk in his tone. “Let’s see who can hug Scar the best! Scar hugging competition!”

Oh dear.

But, Scar decided later, buried and laughing beneath a pile of Hermits and one mildly disgruntled cat, it was a nice feeling. A safe feeling. A fuzzy blanket which wrapped his worries in a comforting embrace and whispered that it was alright to let them go. 

It was a feeling he could get used to. He hoped he did.

* * *

Slowly, through the foggy haze, he pushed his eyes open. 

_Where am I?_

He blinked, glanzing around. Spruce walls, oak floors. A small, potted tree in the corner.

Oh, right. Hermitville.

Wels dragged himself up, rubbing his eyes. Towering builds spiraled up beyond the glassy window panes in front of him. They seemed… taller. Much taller than before.

_That was a long nap._

He pushed down a flicker of unease inside him. Long naps were not too uncommon - stranger things have happened to players, including Hermits.

Everything would be fine. As usual, the others would catch him up.

He felt a tight, pulling sensation as he walked out of his cottage, as if threads were straining tautly inside of him. Wels frowned and took a few more steps. 

The threads snapped. It felt oddly familiar.

* * *

The Hermits weren’t here. Instead, Wels encountered other players, running or flying around the world, chattering about the mysterious builds and even more mysterious Hermits that created them.

Well then. That could only mean one thing. 

Apparently, they had started Season 7 without him. And opened the world to the public like they always did. 

Wels tried his best to avoid those other players, passing himself off as a lone tourist. Name tags were disabled, but it never hurt to be extra cautious. A particularly close call came when he remembered visitors couldn’t destroy blocks only after nearly breaking his cover with a pickaxe.

After some deliberation, he flew for spawn. The Hermits wouldn’t leave him without any failsafes, after all. He had already heard of how that one particular house in Hermitville was suddenly allowing players inside. 

Spawn was a steady trickle of players in and out of the portal, calibrated specifically to allow easy access into Hermitcraft. The location itself was a series of oddly placed stone bricks submerged in shallow water, towers rising around them. Far from the tiny island it used to be. Wels sat down and submerged his legs in the warm, swirling ocean, paying the traffic around him no mind. 

It wasn’t long before Cub joined the world.

* * *

“You seem… different,” Wels said, staring Cub up and down. 

“Really,” Cub said evenly. He tilted his head. “Like what?”

“Like-” Wels broke off, frowning. It was _there,_ a sensation tracing the edges of his memories, but he couldn’t quite grasp any of it.

Instead, he stepped into the portal. Cub followed suit.

* * *

A significant amount of time had passed since Season 7 started, Wels learned as he flew around the landscape. He had some catching up to do. 

“Like - like that,” he finally said as he stared down at Scar’s magical village. “Something feels off about this village too. It's beautiful, but-”

“-full of vex magic?” Cub asked.

Wels nearly fell off the branch he was standing on.

“Y - maybe?” he spluttered. “How do you-”

“Oh, right. You missed that entire debacle,” Cub said. He took a deep breath, gesturing at the crystals in the village. There was a particularly glowy blue one near the entrance, and even this high up Wels could feel what he now realized was the semi-familiar tingle of vex magic.

He blinked, and suddenly - there was a pair of shimmering blue vex wings behind Cub.

Vex wings.

What in the _worlds_ had he missed?

_Some serious catching up to do, indeed._

* * *

“Do you ever think of looking for him?”

Merciless stopped, shadow jolting still on the russet walls.

“Why?” she asked. Her wings pressed down against her back, cold and rigid. “He clearly doesn’t want to be found.”

“But-” Havoc glanced at a nearby painting. It was one of the oldest ones in the mansion, soft brushstrokes of a fluffy gray and white kitten. Her bright green eyes shined through the portrait, eerily realistic.

“You want answers,” Merciless said. It wasn’t a question. 

“I’ve tried searching,” Havoc sighed. “Sorry.”

“I never put a ban on that, technically.” 

“That’s not how leadership works.”

“I know.” 

Havoc bit his lip. 

“It doesn’t really feel like he’s gone, does it?” Merciless whispered after a while.

“No,” Havoc said. “It feels like - like there’s this empty ghost of a throne and we’re all still waiting for him to magically appear and take it back one day! Why?” 

He clenched his fists tightly. “It doesn’t make any sense. None of it does!”

“The other mansions still know us as the BadTimes mansion,” Merciless said. “And I should be angry because it's _mine_ now and has been for so long - but I _want_ us to still be called that for some reason. It's so strange.”

“He left such an impact, I know,” Havoc sighed. “I just - why would he leave like that?”

_“What is that portal?” he demanded. Panic rose in his voice. That was dangerous, so dangerous, but Havoc couldn’t bring himself to care. “Where are you going?”_

_“Somewhere,” BadTimes said flatly. His posture was a soulless statue. It gave away nothing, not a single mercy. “Don’t expect to see me soon. Or ever again.”_

_“But how will you-”_

_“I’ll manage,” he replied._

_And then, he was gone._

“What any of us would give to find out,” Merciless said. “You want to try?”

Havoc sat down on the polished spruce floor. BadTimes had made that particular aesthetic choice too, one of many in the mansion. “I don’t know. It’s futile, anyway. He’s too powerful to be found unwillingly.”

“And other mansions have tried and failed too,” Merciless hummed. She sighed, looking down. “I just wish he’d… at least told us. Trusted his own mansion enough for that.”

“It had to have been something big,” Havoc said. His mind swirled with possibilities yet again, each more unlikely than the last. He’d lost count of the times he had gone down that route. “Something…”

“Something life changing, I know,” Merciless said. “But he _didn’t_ trust us with it. I don’t know what possibility is worse - that it’s our fault, or his. I like to think we would have respected any wishes.”

“Me too,” Havoc said quietly. “But that’s the ultimate hypocrisy, isn’t it?”

* * *

“Do you ever wonder where he is now?”

“Don’t we all.”

“Yes, but - no one’s seen anything since… _that._ It’s weird, you know? There’s only so many places he could be hiding.”

“True. Apparently the mansions have no clue who he is, so he didn’t try to seek them out. Unless one of them is lying to the others, which is certainly very possible. Either way, it’s unlikely we’ll ever know for sure.”

“Yeah. Little mysteries like this just drive me crazy though, you know?”

“Hm. I can understand the feeling. But it’s not really our business anymore.”

“Right, right. Well, see you later. I’m going back to the spawn house.”

“Have a nice trip. See you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s finally done!!! Weirdly short chapter, though it is the epilogue. Feels longer, though, or is that just me?
> 
> Comments are very much appreciated, so let me know what you thought! And remember that constructive criticism is always welcome. 
> 
> Many people requested hugs, and so hugs have been delivered. ~~Now watch as I rip it all away with a sequel-~~ jk probably no sequel sequel but there may be a prequel (sequel). I’m considering it. It’ll be awhile before I start working on it, though.
> 
> Hmm it's almost surreal. I’m finally done with this. I can fully focus on other projects now. IT'S SO STRANGE. 
> 
> Anyway, some massive thanks are in order!!
> 
> To anyone who has read this far, left kudos, come along with me on this ride, or invested time into this fic in any way - thank you so much. Without fandom and community I would never have taken up writing as a hobby at all, let alone gotten as far with it as I have.
> 
> To anyone who has commented their support and observations and ideas - thank you so much. Comments keep me going, and everything down to a single word or heart means so much to me. 
> 
> Specific thanks to all the other friends I’ve made while writing this!! Thanks for all your support and cheering behind the scenes, giving advice and encouragement. You know who you are!
> 
> And more specifically, thanks especially to blueticked, who has been this fic’s biggest supporter, waaay more than myself. The insights you give every chapter warm my heart and always turn the wheels of ideas within my mind. 
> 
> A begrudging thanks to my sisters, who have read some of these chapters and pointed out any mistakes they see while laughing at me ~~(after they’re published, even though you guys have access to the doc you little bastards)~~. At least those mistakes got fixed.
> 
> And the final, biggest thanks goes to Katrina. You supported me through one of the hardest, loneliest times in my life and was always there when I needed mental and emotional support. I started this fic way back in April, and you helped so much in turning my anxiety and time into something productive. You encouraged me both to publish and to continue this story. Maddening Circles would never have existed without you, would never have been published without you, and would never have been continued without you. Thank you for being the crutch I leaned on until I could finally stand on my own. 
> 
> And to everyone reading this - I hope the rest of the year goes well for you. It’s been a wild ride in every sense of the phrase.


End file.
